


A Day Can Give a Hundred Gifts

by pen_and_umbra



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ann is a thirsty minx, Anne is a sabre fencer woot, Anne wears more fabulous suits, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Power Play, Romance, Schmoopy Romance, Sequel, Shameless Smut, Strap-Ons, gay paris, meeting the fam, omg so much smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen_and_umbra/pseuds/pen_and_umbra
Summary: Anne took Ann’s free hand and kissed her on the knuckles, her lips lingering there rather long. Mischief danced in her dark eyes. “I do believe this is the beginning of a very fruitful and satisfying partnership, Miss Walker.”“I suspect you are quite correct in your assessment, Ms Lister.”Modern AU set in Paris. Anne is the ruthless Caligula of venture capitalists. Ann is living the leisurely life of an art history grad student. Together, they’re navigating a new relationship with a whole lot of professional and family complications.Sequel toThree Days and a Tomorrow.





	1. Seven Out of Seven

**Author's Note:**

> This story is done and complete. I’ll post chapters as quickly as I can edit them, hopefully daily. 
> 
> Yes, there will be A LOT of smut. But also plot. It’s just how my brain works...

When the door closed behind her, Ann dropped her bag on the floor and took her coat off. She had just tossed the coat on the foyer chair when Anne grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her against the door.

“You infernal tease.”

“Yes,” Ann agreed, delighted. She pulled Anne closer and kissed her, hard, until she felt breathless. “We’re doing the foyer now?”

“That depends. Undo your jeans.”

Ann exhaled, desire suddenly and sharply coiling in her. Anne’s lips were on her neck, sharp teeth tracing tendons down to Ann’s shoulder; goosebumps rose wherever she touched. Ann’s hands felt clumsy as she undid her jeans, shoving them and her underwear down to mid-thigh. 

“So the lesson to be learned here,” Anne whispered into her ear, and the intensity of her voice made Ann shiver in delight. “Is that you ought not start what you can’t finish.”

“What makes you think I can’t finish this?” Ann said with a smile, her voice unsteady. She had wound Anne up in the car and she had known there would be hell to pay. She was looking forward to this, even if they didn’t have much time before Anne’s company party.

Anne straightened. Her smile was that of a well-practiced fiend; her teeth were very white against the red of her lips. Her left hand went to Ann’s throat and she pushed Ann upright, her grasp firm and unyielding. Ann was forced to stand on her toes and she had to press her hands against the door for balance. The feel of Anne’s hand on her neck was restrictive and controlling and oh so delicious.

Anne’s other hand wandered under Ann’s t-shirt and into her bra. She pinched her nipple, hard. Ann moaned, her knees buckling; only Anne’s hand on her throat kept her upright. She was suddenly, achingly wet.

“Keep your hands on the door.”

Ann exhaled in a breathy moan. “And what if I don’t?”

“How you behave determines how this lesson goes,” Anne whispered to her ear and then bit her earlobe; a frisson of desire shot through Ann. ”If your hands move, I stop.”

All the while, Anne’s hand wandered downwards, her fingers leaving trails of fire on Ann’s skin. Ann squirmed but it was no help; with her legs restricted by her bunched-up jeans and her upper body by Anne’s firm hand on her throat, she could not move. She was subject to Anne’s whims and pace. Ann whimpered, desire shivering through her. 

Drawing slow circles on her hip, Anne’s hand was getting closer to her desire but too slowly for Ann. She moaned in frustration, her fingernails digging into the front door wood.

“Don’t scandalise your neighbours, Ann. Be quiet.”

”You are driving me mad,” Ann hissed and closed her eyes. Perspiration beaded on her upper lip and she licked her lips. Anne’s hand on her throat was not choking her, it was just holding her, unyielding. The power and force behind the grasp were turning her on like nothing else. 

”It’s only fair, you were driving me mad in the car.”

With Anne’s teeth again nipping at her neck, Ann groaned when she finally felt Anne’s fingers dip into her wetness. She tried spreading her legs but could not, thanks to the jeans. Ann’s moan was one of frustration and she canted her hips, seeking more pressure.

”You know,” Anne murmured. Her fingers pressed firmer through Ann’s folds, sliding over her clit with intent. Ann gasped. “To make this lesson memorable, I’m considering not letting you finish.”

Ann opened her eyes wide, suddenly desperate. “Oh, Anne, no!”

”But why should I make you come? You were being so bad,” Anne said and sucked on Ann’s neck. ”Mmm, oh, but you feel so good. You’re so wet, Ann…”

Anne’s fingers were now deliberate on her clit, circling her desire with deft skill and intent. Ann heard her own breathy moans, part arousal and part desperation. She felt her release gathering inside, white-hot and aching.

”I’m nearly th- oh, god! Nearly there. Please Anne…”

Anne slowed and her touch was now maddening, just firm enough to stoke the fire but not quite enough to push Ann over the edge. Ann’s legs trembled. The hand on her throat squeezed a bit harder.

“It would serve you right, being in a state of frustrated arousal through the party. Time would go so slowly for you. All you could do is watch the clock and watch me in my fuck-me heels, not fucking you.”

Anne’s words, whispered so hotly into her ear, left Ann panting. ”Oh god,” she groaned, both aroused and frightened by Anne’s words. She felt herself getting wetter, Anne’s fingers slippery as they slid over her clit.

“Mmm. I am so turned on by the thought. Me, watching you want me. All night long.”

The dark desire in Anne’s voice made Ann moan. Her jeans were straining as she tried to spread her legs, wanting Anne to touch her more, harder, deeper.

”You would look at me and press your legs together in search of release but it wouldn’t be enough. You’d know you need me to fuck you to completion.”

”Oh, Anne, oh god, oh please,” Ann begged, her voice hoarse. 

”You are so delectable when you plead like that, Ann.” Anne bit down on her earlobe, then sucked on it.

”Please, oh, please!”

Ann squeezed her eyes shut, her head banging on the door as she strained against the hard hand on her throat. Panting, hips grinding against Anne’s fingers, she was chasing her release though did not know if she was going to be granted one. 

And then Anne thrust three fingers into her, savagely; the heel of Anne’s hand ground against her clit in a most perfect way. In moments Ann’s insides turned to molten lead as she came hard, her fingers and toes curling in abject pleasure. She screamed and bucked in Anne’s hands, one holding her steady and one stroking every last drop of pleasure out of her.

As the last waves settled, Anne’s hand on her throat finally let go and Ann slumped into her, spent. Gasping for breath, Ann hugged Anne. She shivered with aftershock when Anne slowly pulled her fingers out.

”Ooh,” Ann sighed and paused to swallow, her throat dry. ”Good lord, Anne. You are evil.”

Anne kissed her temple. ”But also benevolent.”

”That’s debatable,” Ann said and suddenly had the giggles. She hugged Anne tighter. ”Oh goodness, that was fabulous.”

Anne yanked Ann’s jeans back up and stepped back. In her dark eyes, Ann saw lingering lust and mirth. ”I would love nothing more than to continue in the same vein, but we are on the clock.”

Ann straightened and ran her hands through her hair. ”All right, all right. Erm. Clothes, then.”

”Yes, clothes. Wear that lovely pale blue sleeveless number, maybe?” Anne put her fingers, the ones that had just been inside Ann, in her mouth and sucked. Her eyelids fluttered. ”Mmm. Oh that’s fantastic.”

Ann exhaled. A frisson went through her. ”Evil,” she muttered darkly as she headed towards her closets.

* * *

”Sam! What are you doing here?”

”I’m always where the money is,” Samuel Washington laughed and hugged Ann. She was delighted; he was part of her fonder memories of Yorkshire.

”I haven’t seen you in ages and now two times in two months. You moving to Paris soon?”

Sam let go of her and stepped back. His eyes were twinkling with amusement. ”Not a chance. We’re in negotiations with Schultz,” he said and pointed at a gaggle of dark-suited men and women nearby with his drink, ”for a Series A round in Germany. And now with Brazen Ventures announcing this cooperation deal with them, well, I wheedled myself in here to press the negotiations onwards.”

Ann glanced at the Germans.  _ Always with the awful ties, _ she thought, and smiled into her wine. She ran a hand down her form-fitting pale blue dress, feeling chic and enjoying the feel of the cool fabric on her palm. She was glad she had opted against black; in the sea of dark fabrics, she felt light and airy.

The wine in her glass was fantastic and so were the surroundings. Hosted in the  _ Institut Océonographique _ library salons, it was an intimate evening gathering of maybe eighty people, all in pressed suits and expensive shoes. A jazz quartet was playing quietly in the Grand Salon and waiters in black and white were circling with drinks. Ann looked up, at the lofty Gothic ceilings with murals of ocean scenes and the bookcases that spanned two floors, and just admired the sheer Parisian  _ je ne sais quoi _ of the place.

The party celebrated Brazen’s cooperation deal with Schultz Ventures but as these things always were, it was an excuse for further networking. Around her, Ann could hear English and French and German, loud voices and quiet confidential whispers, gossip and money. Always money.

”So what are you doing here?” Sam asked, leaning towards her to be heard better. ”Have you taken an active role in your family trust?”

”No, I’m here, um,” Ann said and faltered.  _ Oh, have some courage, Ann. Coming out is a process, not an event. _ She fingered the steel bracelet Anne had given her that afternoon, the metal warm against her skin. ”I’m here with Anne.”

”Ms Lister? Your trust does business with her?”

Ann took a deep breath and sipped her wine. She looked around and found Anne at the other end of the room, talking animatedly with a pale, bald man and a younger dark-haired woman in a fabulous noil silk skirt suit in fuchsia. They were smiling, seemingly enthralled with whatever Anne was saying. Ann let her eyes linger on Anne, her figure slim and tall in her all-black suit and in the oxblood red stiletto heels. Ann hummed in delight at the sight.

”No, I’m with her. As her partner.”

Sam blinked, uncomprehending. Ann rolled her eyes and felt herself blush.

”Partner. Girlfriend.”

Sam’s eyes widened as it clicked in his head. ”Oh. Ooh! I see.”

Ann shrugged. ”And I know the people and the industry. Money attracts more money, Anne said.”

”Well, congratulations,” Sam said with a smile and touched his wine glass to hers. ”She’s quite something else.”

“Quite so,” Ann said and couldn’t help her smile. ”Do you get back to Yorkshire often?”

”Not as much as I’d like,” Sam sighed. ”It’d be a lovely place to bring up the girls but it’s too far away from London. I wish York had a bigger startup scene.”

”Are you coming to the remembrance this summer? I’m sure Delia has been in touch with you.”

”She has! And yes, we’ll all be there.”

“I’m glad.” Ann paused. “Do you know who those people are that Anne is talking to?”

Sam turned and squinted. ”That’s Michael Hinscliffe, one of Anne’s venture partners at Brazen so she’s his boss. The woman I don’t know.” Sam frowned. “Could be from one of the new startups Hinscliffe has been researching into here in France. Mostly down in Sophia Antipolis, though.”

As Ann watched them, Hinscliffe laughed at something Anne said and the young woman put her hand on Anne’s forearm, her smile broad and bright as she gazed up at Anne.  _ Oh I see, this is how it is,  _ Ann thought, nonplussed. She had of course known that Anne had a reputation when it came to women and that people often tried to seduce their way into her money, but this was the first time she saw it happening right before her eyes.

Anne put her hand on top of the woman’s hand. Ann could see the striking smile and wink she gave to the young woman and Ann found herself feeling felt both intrigued and annoyed. She didn’t for one moment think Anne would actually do anything with this woman, not now, but still. There was something so strange, seeing Anne in this environment where she was the apex predator. She seemed subtly yet perceptibly different from her private self. Harder, colder, more impatient. Less genuine.

Just then, Anne’s eyes met hers from across the room. Looking straight at Ann, she picked up the young woman’s hand and brought it to her lips. Ann saw Anne slide her lips across the knuckles, just a moment longer than was strictly appropriate; the young woman leaned towards Anne, her very pink lips parting in an involuntary sigh.

Meeting Anne’s gaze unblinkingly, Ann bit her lower lip, amused and outraged. She lifted her glass in a salute and narrowed her eyes, thinking. 

“Sam, hold my glass, please.”

“Oh, sure,” he said and took it. “I’ll go talk to the Germans in a bit, I think. When they’ve had one more drink.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Ann said distractedly. She dug out her cell phone from her clutch, eyes still on Anne.

_ \---22:09 [Ann Walker] You are now watching me want you _

Ann watched as Anne got the text. Her left hand was on the young woman’s waist, fingers stroking the silk of her jacket; her right hand fished the phone from her trouser pocket. Anne read the message and her gaze shot back to Ann. Fire burned in Anne’s dark eyes, the intensity of her look palpable even across the room.

_ \---22:10 [Anne Lister] You didn’t learn your lesson then _

Ann took her wine back from Sam and typed one-handed, avoiding Anne’s eyes.

_ \---22:12 [Ann Walker] Does this mean I get detention? _

Ann drained her glass and looked back at Anne. Anne’s hand was now inside the young woman’s jacket but she was still smiling at Ann. It was a dark, dangerous smile and it made Ann shiver.

_ \---22:14 [Anne Lister] It means I’m all out of benevolence tonight _

_ \---22:16 [Anne Lister] We leave in one hour _

Ann shifted, pressing her thighs together. Anne had been right, it didn’t help at all; the sudden desire blossoming in her could not be sated this way. 

She watched as Anne leaned towards the young woman and whispered something in her ear, lips touching her dark hair. The woman closed her eyes and tilted her head as if offering the white length of her neck for Anne to devour. Yet, Anne’s gaze was still on Ann, sharp and hard. The young woman, eyes still closed, was swaying and Ann knew exactly what she was doing: trying to chase more of the scent of Anne’s distinctive, intoxicating perfume and thinking about how she could somehow entice Anne’s hand to wander to bare skin. 

Ann exhaled unsteadily. She couldn’t watch any more of this, it was both irritating and turning her on.

”Right. Sam. I need more wine and I think I saw someone from Green Star Capital I know.”

”Let’s hit the buffet,” Sam said and offered his arm to Ann. ”And then I’ll go woo some German money.”

They walked slowly, dodging clusters of people, pausing to greet acquaintances. Ann’s feet were starting to hurt in her heels but she was used to it. Once they got to the buffet, Ann felt her phone vibrate in her clutch. Balancing her plate of canapes in one hand, she dug the phone out. 

It was a message but not from Anne. 

_ \---22:40 [Catherine Rawson] Hey hey! Call tomorrow? _

_ \---22:40 [Catherine Rawson] Easter is next week, am going to book my Chunnel tickets soon _

_ Oh shit. _ She had completely forgotten her cousin was coming to town.


	2. Everyone Else Asks Why

“So who was that young thing?”

“Hmm?” Anne muttered, frowning at her phone.

“Who was throwing herself at you yesterday at the party.”

At that, Anne blinked and put her phone on the cafe table. She slouched back down in her chair and put one booted foot up on the chair opposite her. Offering Ann a wicked grin, Anne said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ann smiled. She picked up her cappuccino and turned in her chair towards Anne. “Oh you, don’t you play coy. That dark-haired woman in fuchsia. She was creaming her knickers left and right when your hand went inside her jacket.”

“I think that metaphor just went to places metaphors shouldn’t go to,” Anne said, smiling, and bit into her croissant. “Ferrall. Sophie Ferrall. She already has Series A funding from an Israeli no-name VC so I think she was mostly after me, not my money.”

Ann smiled into her cappuccino. She eyed Anne; she was wearing her favourite jacket, the olive green bomber, over black jeans and a black Oxford shirt. She looked decidedly dishy in her casual chic. 

“She certainly was after you. And you were playing right along, you cad.”

“Well, she has excellent family connections in Russia and Israel. Dodgy money but it’s still money. So it’s good to keep my, hm, finger on that pulse. So to speak.”

Outraged and amused, Ann slapped Anne on the shoulder with the back of her hand. “You are such a scoundrel!”

“You are one to talk! Miss fuck me eyes, texting me dirty things from across the room.”

“I certainly learned my lesson last night,” Ann murmured indulgently. Under her jeans, Anne’s palm print was probably still visible on her arse cheek.

“I’m highly doubtful of that.”

Ann laughed and sat back, draining the rest of her coffee. 

They were having a leisurely breakfast at a cafe in Anne’s block, the pavement of the side street crammed full with chairs and small round tables. Croissants, fresh bread, jams, butter, coffee - Ann felt very Parisian and very satisfied. A perfect Saturday. She debated another croissant but decided against; instead, she closed her eyes, put her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, and turned her face towards the cold, bright April sun. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Ann said and sat up, opening her eyes. Anne was back on her phone, scrolling through her calendar. “My cousin, one of the Rawsons, is coming here for Easter weekend. For shopping. She’s staying at my place.”

“Which Rawson?”

“Catherine. Have you ever met her?”

“I don’t think so. Her grandmother is a big fan of mine, though. One of these people who find me entertaining,” Anne said and glanced at Ann. “What’re your plans with her?”

“Well,” Ann sighed and closed her eyes again. “When she visits, it’s usually just shopping and drinking wine. The trouble is, I’m not out to her.” 

“Would you want to be?”

“I would. But that would mean outing myself to the rest of my family, too, because she can’t keep her mouth shut. Cue a billion outraged phone calls.” Ann took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “But it has to be done.” 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“I’m going to Halifax in the summer, and, uh,” Ann said and faltered. She looked at Anne. “I would like for you to come with me. To my parents’ remembrance. If you can come.”

“I’m going anyway,” Anne said and squeezed Ann’s hand. “A Delia Rawson emailed me a while back. Your parents were my friends, remember? But I will come specifically with you, if you think that’s what you want to do.”

Ann sighed. “I do think it is. So I have to tell Catherine so that I don’t wind up having my grand coming out ceremony in the summer, at the remembrance event.”

“Mmm. That would be bad timing, I agree.”

“How annoying,” Ann exhaled and frowned. “I’m almost thirty and I feel… awful about disappointing my family so.”

Anne shifted in her chair towards Ann. She held Ann’s face in her hands and kissed her. “Their disappointment about the matter, any matter, is entirely of their own fault, Ann. Not yours.” 

“I know. Doesn’t make it easier,” Ann murmured and closed her eyes. She leaned forward and caught Anne’s lips again, their kiss languid and sweet. 

When they broke for air, Ann smiled. She would deal with the headache next week. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For kissing me like that. For coming to Halifax with me in the summer.” Ann leaned back, eyeing Anne through half-lidded eyes. “I do have a complaint to make, though.”

Anne tossed back the rest of her cafe Americano and arched a wicked, humoured eyebrow at Ann. “Oh? Have my services been somehow unsatisfactory?”

Ann felt herself blush and poked Anne in the shoulder. “Don’t try to distract me, you beast. It's your birthday tomorrow and you didn’t tell me.”

“Uh oh. Who told you?” 

“Thomas. I asked him.”

Anne frowned. “How does  _ he _ know?”

“He’s a very capable assistant, remember?”

“Well now,” Anne muttered and glanced at Ann. “I do hope you’re not planning anything extravagant.”

“A five-tiered chocolate cake and a small party for a hundred of your closest associates.”

“Funny.”

“There’s a thing we’re doing three weeks from now, but I had Thomas enter that into your calendar already,” Ann said and winked. 

“Where are we going?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it? But it’s nothing outrageous.”

Anne eyed her reproachfully. “Be mysterious, then. How about tomorrow?”

“Nothing for tomorrow, though I am planning on getting naked and driving you mad in a variety of ways.”

Anne grasped her hand and brought it to her lips. There was humour and heat in equal measures in her eyes. “You drive me mad on the regular,  _ ma fée.” _

“Hm. You are beastly.”

* * *

Ann shuddered with the aftershocks of her orgasm, feeling lightheaded from the pleasure and from holding her breath a bit too long. The table was hard and cold on her back and her sweaty hands slid on the slick surface when she tried to push herself up.

“May I?”

“Please,” Ann breathed and got pulled up to a sitting position by Anne’s hand. “Next time, maybe the bed?”

“Nonsense,” Anne said and smiled. She leaned in to kiss Ann and she could taste herself on Anne’s lips. “The dining table was closer and it’s the perfect height.”

“Heaven forbid I stand in the way of ergonomics. But even with all of your wily ways, I am not telling you about our surprise date.”

“I’m not done trying,” Anne said with a wide smile. She nudged Ann’s legs apart and stood between them. She ran her hands along Ann’s thighs, from knees to her hips, and then Ann felt thumbs brushing gently, teasingly, near her most sensitive parts. 

“Oh, hm, oh,” Ann sighed, her eyes fluttering closed on their own volition. “Is this how we’re going to spend this Sunday? It’s your birthday.”

“I’ve now had my favourite snack. What more could I possibly want?”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Maybe I want my favourite snack in the shower next.”

Ann opened her eyes and laughed. “You are so easy, and I mean that in every possible way. But that reminds me,” she said and caught Anne’s hands. “I did get something for you.”

Ann slid off the table and went to the foyer. Next to her purse was a canvas bag and from it, she pulled out a large, flat package in black wrapping paper. She returned to Anne at the dining table and handed it over.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Nonsense. Wrapping paper chosen just for you,” Ann said and sat in a chair at the table. “Go on.”

With a curious look, Anne glanced at Ann and then tore off the paper. Inside was a painting in a simple black frame. Anne turned it the right way around, glanced at it, and then stilled. 

“Ann. When did you…”

Ann crossed her legs and leaned back, warmth suffusing her despite her complete nakedness. The look in Anne’s eyes was so moved and so full of surprise that her heart skipped a beat.

“When we were going to Rennes. We sat on the train and you told me about your family and how they destroyed your journals. The lighting was just perfect then and I tried to recreate it later to the best of my abilities.”

Anne touched the glass over the watercolour painting of her, tracing the black and white and warm yellows. Ann thought it was one of her best works - depicting Anne deep in thought, looking so comfortable in what and who she was - but she still felt a bit nervous. She had no clue how Anne felt about her doing this, which was essentially an intrusion of privacy.

“Is this how you see me?”

Ann smiled, her worry ebbing away; there was wonder in Anne’s voice. “I’m a decent artist. This is how you are.”

“Hardly. But I’m… glad you see me this way.” Anne looked up and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Now you just need to decide where you can hang a picture of yourself and not have people think you are, hm, conceited.”

“I don’t care what people think,” Anne said and gestured vaguely with her arm. “And my friends already know I’m conceited.”

”Well, maybe you are, just a little.”

Anne gave her a glare. ”Don’t you start.”

”Well, I haven’t met many of your friends, so I wouldn’t know.”

Anne sat quietly for a moment. She then set the painting down on the table and pulled Ann up from her chair. She led them to one of her many grey sofas and sat down, Ann in her lap. Ann felt the rough fabric of Anne’s jeans chafe her bottom and she snaked her hand under Anne’s t-shirt, feeling warm skin. 

”So, Ann. Would you come to Vere’s wedding with me?”

Ann stilled her hand under Anne’s shirt. ”I didn’t think you’d want to go.”

”Mmm, yes. But many of my London friends are going.” Anne closed her eyes. ”It would be lovely to see them. It’s the weekend before your parents’s remembrance day so we could do both on the same trip.”

Ann leaned her head on Anne’s shoulder and hugged her under the shirt. ”Will it be a big wedding? A morning suit kind of a thing?”

”The works. St Martin-in-the-Fields, acres of lace, eighteen flower girls. Her fiancé is an OBE and a variety of other acronyms.”

”Let’s go, then,” Ann said and kissed Anne’s neck. ”I’ll have to dig out my collection of fascinators. All two of them.”

”Oh and as a fair word of warning, there will be a few of my exes present.”

Ann lifted her head to look at Anne, who seemed amused. ”How many?”

”A few. Several. Well, hm, many.” 

”I see. It’ll have to be the fanciest of my fascinators, then.”

Anne smiled and drew her closer in her lap. ”They will all be ridiculously jealous of me.”

”You’re just saying that because you want to get into my knickers.”

”That’s easy when you’re not wearing any,” Anne murmured against her lips and ran a firm hand along Ann’s thigh. Ann sighed at the sensation and at the same time, her stomach growled. ”Mmm. Lunchtime?”

”Please.”

Anne kissed her and then tilted her off her lap and onto the sofa. Ann leaned back, stretching her arms above her head as Anne stood up. 

”You hold that pose while I nip down to the corner for something.” Anne paused and looked down at her, smiling broadly. ”And don’t you dare get dressed. I want you naked all day long.” 

“Pervert,” Ann called after her. 

When she heard the front door close, Ann got up and found her half-drunk champagne glass in the kitchen. She then wandered to the bedroom and dug out her phone from her pile of clothes. There were a few new messages from Catherine and a missed call from Jack Smith-Wessington from last night. She rang him back.

“Hey, Jack-o. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Hey baby girl! Nah. No hot brunch date for me today. How about you?”

“Today’s Caligula’s birthday. I’ve yet to put on clothes,” Ann said, feeling evil. She was rewarded with a squeal from Jack.

“You brazen hussy! I’m going to hang up now.”

Ann laughed. “I have more bad news for you.”

“Oh? 

“I have it from a good source that Thomas probably isn’t gay.” 

“Ooh, you’re breaking my heart, honeybuns. Say it ain’t so!”

“Well, you’ve made people discover their bi-curiosity before, so I’m not saying don’t go for it,” Ann said with a giggle. Jack was, by all measures, a total looker in that American football jock kind of way. “So did you call me with something in mind?”

“I called to guilt you into doing something with me besides quick lunches. You’ve been busy exploring Cunnilingus Land lately, I get that, but still. I miss you, sweetie. No homo.”

Ann snorted. “You have such a lovely way with words.”

“Thank you, I aim to please.” 

“Well, I’d love to see you, too. You have exams this week?”

“And labs. But how about next weekend? It’s Easter so school’s out.”

“I have a visitor for Easter but Monday or Tuesday week from now? Anne will be in Sophia Antipolis and I’ll be all by my lonesome at home.”

Jack’s sigh was theatrical and heartfelt. “How about we scoot off to Provence, too? My southern bones are feeling miserable after the winter.”

”I feel you. So Tuesday night at the cinema, many beers, and then the sex shop?”

”Yes! Les Halles it is,” Jack said, enthusiastic. ”Your turn to pay for beers. Or else I’m gonna wobble all the dildos at you.”

”Ooh, you monster,” Ann laughed. ”I’ll pay.”


	3. Hell to the Liars

On the rooftop terrace of Printemps Haussmann, the wind was blustery but at least the April sun had some warmth to give. Ann sat down with an explosive sigh and set her too expensive coffee down on the table. The rooftop cafe of the department store was too touristy for her but then again, Catherine had picked it and she was a tourist.

“Oooh, I’ll never get tired of this view,” Catherine said and gestured towards the Eiffel Tower in the distance. “Look at that!”

Ann smiled. She put on her sunglasses and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. “Don’t forget Montmartre over on the other side.”

Catherine turned around with her phone in her hand, snapping a couple of shots. “We should also do a selfie here.”

“Sure thing. As long as you limit it to maybe five social media platforms.”

Catherine gave her a raspberry and sat down with all of her many shopping bags at her feet. “Don’t you mock my profession, Ann,” she said with a smile.

“I would never do such a thing.”

“So,” Catherine started but then paused. She fidgeted with her wine glass and put her sunglasses on, suddenly seeming very serious. “I have to ask you about something.”

Ann frowned. She had been nervous all day long, not knowing when and where to approach the l-word topic with Catherine, but what was this then? “What is it, Cath?”

“I spoke with Delia yesterday, just before I left. And apparently she’d been on the phone with Sam, Sam Washington, the other day.” Catherine paused to take a large gulp of wine. “And he had said something about you coming to the remembrance in the summer with, um. Er. Ms Lister.”

Ann blinked. Her heart jumped painfully. “Ah. Well. Now,” she said before her voice faltered.

“This was just about accommodations you see, because he was wondering if you’d be staying with her family rather than at Crow Nest and then Sam and his family could stay at Crow Nest because, as you know, they have six girls and-”

Ann halted Catherine’s word vomit with a raised hand. She took a deep breath and was grateful that her sunglasses hid the panic that was surely visible in her eyes. “Yes. Yes. It’s true. I’ll be there with, er, Anne. Ms Lister, that is.” It felt strange calling Anne ‘Ms Lister’. The words sat uncomfortably in her mouth.

Catherine twirled her wine glass on the table and leaned forward, frowning. “I don’t… I don’t understand, Ann.”

Ann took off her sunglasses to look Catherine squarely in the eye. She touched Anne’s bracelet on her left hand, the metal smooth and hard on her fingers.  _ Time to be brave again, you wet noodle.  _

“I’ll be there with Anne because I’m with her. In a relationship,” she said, enunciating the last word very carefully. Her heart was racing now.

Catherine blinked rapidly. “What? But how? I mean why?”

“How do people fall in love? That’s how and why.” Ann’s mouth felt very dry. “I’m gay, Cath.”

“But she’s so…” Catherine blurted out and then trailed off.

Ann leaned forward. “Think very hard before you finish that sentence, Cath,” she said, not unkindly.

“Oh. Hm. And you are? G-gay?”

“Have been for a long time. Just haven’t had the, well,” Ann said and sighed. “Didn’t feel the need to tell everyone.”

Catherine sat back and gulped down the rest of her wine. Her eyes were shifting between Ann and the scenery. Ann gave her time, sipping her coffee with calmness she was mostly faking. Inside, she felt nauseated and the coffee did not help. Her hand shook when she set her cup down.

“It’s just a lot to take in, Ann,” Catherine sighed. “It’s like… I don’t know you at all.”

Ann tilted her head. “It’s still me. I’ve not changed.”

“I know,” Catherine said and put her hand to her forehead. “I have gay friends and all. It’s just that I’ve known you for a long time and I had no idea. It feels… strange.”

“Well, as I said, it’s still me. I hope this doesn’t change anything between us.”

“Who else knows?”

“My friends. Elizabeth. And I’m guessing the rest of the clan very soon.” Ann shrugged. “I don’t care that much any more, if I’m honest with you.”

Catherine took Ann’s hand on the table. “And are you happy? Because she, uh, Ms Lister, there are things people say about her. That she, well, she...” Catherine trailed off and lowered her voice. “That she’s a bit of a skirt-chaser."

Ann smiled. “Those people can fuck right off.”

“Oh! Well,” Catherine said and straightened, surprised. 

“You’ll get to meet her tomorrow. We’re having dinner with her,” Ann said and squeezed Catherine’s hand. “Don’t worry, she won’t chase your skirt.”

“Oh, uh… Do you want some wine? I’m going to get another glass.”

Ann nodded and closed her eyes when Catherine left the table. This was going to be a long visit.

* * *

“She called her  _ what?” _

“A skirt-chaser!” Ann laughed and put another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“What is this, 1935?” Jack had his beer halfway to his mouth but he had forgotten it in his outrage.

“I know!”

Ann laughed at Jack’s eye rolling and put her popcorn down. They were seated at the cineplex bar, the cacophony and crowds of Les Halles roiling around them. Jack was on his second beer and they had twenty minutes before showtime.

”How did the dinner go, then?”

Ann puffed her cheeks and then exhaled. ”Well, as smoothly as was possible. Anne flirted shamelessly with Catherine all evening and I think Cath went home not quite knowing what to think of Anne or herself. She has that effect on people.”

”Hm. So how come I've not had dinner with you and Ms Skirt-Chaser when random cousins get to dine with y’all?”

Ann grinned. ”You know too many of my secrets! But I hear you, Jack-o. Soon.”

”I’ll hold you to that,” Jack said and saluted with his pint. ”I’ll bring a cake. Something vaguely vulvic maybe?”

”Jack!” Ann laughed and smacked him on the arm. She glanced back at her phone. ”The strange thing is, Catherine has been at home for a day now. I expected to get a few thousand outraged calls from various uncles and cousins by now, but there’s been nothing.”

”Complete radio silence? How weird. Have they all imploded in a giant rainbow cloud of homophobia?”

”One can only hope.”

Ann’s phone rang and startled, she looked at it.  _ It’s her,  _ she mouthed. Jack waved her to answer.

”Hey there.”

”Hello,” Ann said and felt an irresistible smile come on her face at the sound of Anne’s voice. ”Don’t tell me about the weather in Nice.”

”It’s summer temperatures and the sky is a brilliant azure. I’m sitting at a terrace having my first aperitif, looking at the Mediterranean sea.” In the background of Anne’s call, Ann could hear the clink of ice on glass and the faint murmur of people talking.

“Ooh, you are evil. I’m having cheap beers with Jack-o at Les Halles. No Mediterranean unless you count the dodgy shrimp in the tacos we had earlier.”

“I wouldn’t.” Anne paused and Ann could hear her take a sip. “Did you survive Catherine’s trip to the end? Or is that why you’re drinking cheap beer by the bucket?”

Ann sighed. “She left yesterday. It was… okay at the end I guess. But I’m at a loss as to why I’ve not received any calls or all-caps text messages from the clan.”

“Hm. I have a confession to make, Ann.”

“What is it?” Ann said, frowning. In the corner of her eye, she could see Jack leaning closer but she ignored him.

“I called the elder Rawson. As I mentioned, she’s very fond of me. I answered some very direct questions about my intentions regarding you,” Anne said, clearly humoured, “and she said she’d take care of, and I quote, the ‘small-minded cretins’ of the family.”

“Oh!” Ann said, surprised. “Really? Uh, what sort of questions did she ask?”

“Well, whether my intentions towards you are honourable. I assured her that they are. Then she asked whether I had, hm, inveigled myself into your knickers yet. She thinks you might be a screamer.”

“She does not!”

Anne laughed. “She does!”

“Good lord,” Ann exhaled and felt the sudden blush on her cheeks. She felt giggly and light-headed. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to look a Rawson in the eye again.”

“Welcome to infamy. It’s a lovely club,” Anne said. “All right, I’m off to dine with some far too eager startup youngsters. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. Love you.”

“Good night, Ann. Can’t wait to see you on Wednesday.”

Ann put her phone down and tried to suppress her giggles. She tried to look Jack in the eye but that did not help - her laugh would not subside. A few minutes and half a pint later, Ann could finally calm down.

“So you wanna tell me what that was all about?” Jack asked, smiling.

“Anne went nuclear on the Rawsons and called their grandma. That’s why I’ve had zero contact from them, because they’re all terrified of the matriarch.” 

“Holy fuck,” Jack said and inhaled through his teeth. “She does not play nice.”

“Never, Jack-o.”

”You do realise that when we get together, I’m going to tell her you call her Caligula?”

”Consider your dinner invite rescinded, you lout.”


	4. The Familiar and the New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut, and once again just 98% vanilla.

Ann dipped her tongue into her sloe gin drink. It was fantastic but then again, everything at Experimental Cocktail Club was. She shifted in her seat; she was uncomfortable but not because of the seat. Their private booth was a secluded nook in the brick-walled, dimly lit speakeasy; jazz music was playing quietly, drowned out by the clink of glasses and conversations. 

Opposite her, Anne was sprawled on her bench seat in her usual manner, taking the room of at least one and a half people. In one hand, she had a ridiculous cocktail called Passion Dashi; the other, her phone. Still dressed in her three-piece day suit of charcoal grey pinstripe and an aubergine necktie over a white dress shirt, she looked annoyed.

“Hey,” Ann said and under the table, poked Anne in the shin with her foot. 

Anne blinked and put her phone down on the table between them. “Sorry,” she sighed. “I probably need to go back to Sophia Antipolis soon.”

“Little Ms Ferrall hounding you?” Ann asked, humoured.

Anne smiled and winked. “She was most persistent while I was there last time. Two evenings of peeling her hand off my arse was a bit much.”

“That little floozy!”

Anne slid lower on her bench seat and put her arm across the back of it. “Not too long ago I would’ve taken her to my hotel room and shagged her six ways from Sunday,” she mused and then smiled at Ann. “But then I broke the cardinal rule of cads: I got attached.”

“Too bad for Ms Ferrall,” Ann said and leaned her chin on her hand, smiling back at Anne.

“She was most put out.” Anne took a sip of her drink and looked around. “I’ve never been here before. Fantastic place.”

“Me neither. I’ve always wanted to come here, but it’s not a place where you’d go on your own. And I would’ve come with Jack-o but he prefers cheap beer,” Ann said and rolled her eyes. 

”Dinner was excellent, too. Thank you.”

Ann smiled back at Anne. ”I’ve also never had a good excuse to splurge on Le Cinq before. But now I have you.”

”Mmm. That langoustine was out of this world.”

Ann paused for a breath. ”And I have more surprises for you.”

”What a coincidence. I have a surprise for you, too.”

Ann leaned forward, intrigued. ”Really? What sort of a surprise?”

Anne tilted her head at a slight angle. Her dark eyes gleamed with the drink and sudden want. ”The fun sort. Take off your right shoe and give me your foot.”

Ann blinked, nonplussed. Now intensely curious, she kicked off her right shoe and slid her foot up Anne’s trouser leg. The foot was caught by Anne’s hands. A shiver ran through Ann as Anne squeezed her foot and then placed it between her legs. Ann’s toes touched the warm wool of Anne’s suit, the softness of her leg and...

Ann exhaled unsteadily, fire suddenly spreading through her body. In Anne’s trouser leg, she felt the unmistakable unyielding shape of—  _ She’s wearing the fucking strap-on,  _ Ann realized, and her eyes shot to Anne’s.

”You’re… you’ve not.”

Anne drained the rest of her drink and with her free hand, she pressed Ann’s foot more firmly against the hardness of the dildo in her trousers. ”I have.”

”Is it the, uh, the one?” Ann whispered and she heard the catch in her voice. Her limbs tingled with the memory of Anne taking her from behind, hard, while she was blindfolded. At the thought, she felt herself get suddenly, achingly wet. 

”It’s that one, yes.”

Anne’s voice was low and dangerous; her hands were sliding along the silky stocking on Ann’s shin. Ann felt her legs quiver at the promise in Anne’s words. It was  _ so _ big. She was scared and aroused in equal measures. 

”Here?”

”Let’s go home.”

”No,” Ann breathed and Anne’s hand on her leg stilled. ”Here. Toilet. Cloakroom. This booth. I don’t care.”

* * *

The handicapped stall smelled sharply of disinfectant but it was clean and empty and it had a sturdy door. Ann heard the lock click and then Anne pressed her chest first against the tile wall, a hand between her shoulder blades and the other on her hip. 

”So impatient,” Anne whispered into her ear. ”Why Ann, I didn’t realise you liked it that much.”

”That’s, oh, the one memory I go back to when I have a wank,” Ann confessed, delighted and breathless from arousal.

”Oh, I see. Perhaps this time will be even better.”

Ann moaned, her cheek hot against the cold tile. Anne pressed her against the wall with her body and she felt the sharp edge of Anne’s shoe sole nudging her legs apart. Anne’s belt buckle jangled and then Ann heard the zipper. She shivered with anticipation.

”Oh I don’t know. That one was bloody fantastic.”

”You know I can’t resist a challenge,” Anne hissed and then bit Ann’s earlobe. “Keep your hands on the wall.”

Ann’s knees felt weak and she moaned again when she felt Anne’s hands on her thighs, sliding her skirt upwards until it was bunched at her hips. Ann smiled and closed her eyes. 

”Well now, Ann. No underwear?”

Ann exhaled and shifted her hips so that she felt the wool of Anne’s trousers on her bare arse. ”Surprise,” she panted, so very glad she had worn just stay-up stockings and no knickers. 

Anne growled in delight, her fingers mapping the skin on Ann’s thighs, her lips and teeth hot on Ann’s neck. Then the hands went away and after a brief rustle of clothing and the swift sound of a harness being tightened, Ann felt something cool and blunt along her arse.

”Oh! Ohh,” she moaned, hands sweaty on the wall tiles. She pressed back into the hardness.

”Mmh. So eager. And so very wet already, I imagine.”

Anne’s voice was rough and low, and her teeth were very sharp where they nipped on her neck. Anne’s brogue pressed again into Ann’s calf until she spread her legs even more; Anne reached between her thighs. And then her hand stilled.

”Oh Ann,” Anne breathed, and there was a new sort of intensity in her voice. She wound her hand into Ann’s hair and pulled until Ann was forced to open her eyes and look back at her. The dark look in Anne’s eyes was liquid fire. ”You have a…”

Ann smiled and exhaled, squirming under that hot gaze. Anne pressed her fingers on the butt plug and Ann saw stars. Her breath came out in a groan, so very turned on by the odd, new sensation and from Anne’s obvious arousal. 

”Ah, surprise,” she sighed and then made a breathy cry when Anne wiggled the plug again. ”Ahh! Oh god…”

”You are full of surprises. Literally,” Anne whispered wickedly in her ear. Ann felt her fingers slide through her wetness, skillful and now slick. ”Oh, I am going to fuck you so very thoroughly tonight.”

”That’s going to be- ahh! Oh fuck!”

Ann forgot the rest of her sentence when Anne pushed into her. Ann’s knees buckled until she caught herself; she focused on breathing through the sensation of being filled so completely. There was a momentary relief when Anne pulled back and then she slid back in, heavy and unyielding. 

“Oh god Anne, ah, so much…” 

Anne picked up the pace and each stroke brought out a breathy, desperate moan from Ann. ”Good girl,” Anne breathed into her ear. 

Ann whined. She felt as if her insides were on fire. Anne’s hand squeezed her hip, rock steady; the other was back between her shoulder blades, pushing her down and against the wall as she fucked her roughly. 

”Oh Anne, it’s… it’s so, ohh, big…”

Ann moaned at every thrust, her desire stoked ever hotter. With both the plug and Anne in her, she felt fuller than ever before, almost painfully so. She slipped a hand between her legs to help herself, but then Anne stopped. 

”Oh no you don’t,” Anne hissed and pulled completely out with a wet, obscene sound. Ann whimpered at the sudden emptiness and opened her eyes. Anne’s hand wound in her hair again. ”Come here.”

Anne yanked her away from the wall and then let go of her hair. Ann swayed and then straightened when Anne sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat and beckoned her there. Ann shivered, feeling weak with lust; the sight of Anne slouched on the seat, still in her full suit and tie but with a raw red mouth and a gleaming crimson cock upright in her groin, was a heady combination of the proper and the absolutely filthy. 

Ann straddled Anne’s legs, hands on shoulders, and sat down slowly. Her head lolled back and perspiration slicked her temples as Anne filled her again. It was just  _ so much.  _ Anne’s hands slid to her arse and then she was all in, sitting in Anne’s lap, stretched to her limit. Her breath was coming in gasps as she tried to get used to the sensation.

”Mmm, better,” Anne whispered into her ear and then kissed her on her neck. Her fingers ventured further and tapped the plug in Ann’s arse; Ann let out a strangled moan. ”Now I can watch you come apart for me.”

Ann lifted herself up and then back down, again and again, building a rhythm. Her eyes wanted to close but she kept them resolutely open, watching Anne watch her. The look in those dark eyes made her pleasure coil and tighten in her groin. 

”Is, oh, that-” Ann started but paused with Anne’s fingers on her lips. She stilled, mid-thrust. Someone had come into the toilet. 

Frozen in place, Ann listened to the drunken humming of a patron as her heels took her across the tile floor and then a stall door closed with a thump. Ann looked down at Anne and found that she was smiling, all sharp white teeth and mischief. 

Anne made a ’be quiet’ gesture and slid down a bit, leaving more room between them. This jolted Ann; she was impaled on Anne’s strap-on so she had no choice but to go along. As she watched, Anne put her thumb into her mouth and then slid that hand between them. 

At the first touch on her clit, Ann’s mouth fell open but no sound came out, just her laboured breathing. Giving Anne an outraged look, Ann focused on steadying her breath, her muscles squeezing the cock in her.

”You pervert,” Ann mouthed silently, canting her hips towards Anne’s wet, insistent thumb on her clit. ”You’re enjoying this.”

Grinning wolfishly, Anne nodded and pressed harder. Ann grasped Anne’s shoulders in a vice grip; her legs trembled and gave out, and she slid even further down on Anne’s cock. Red hot arousal spiked through Ann but she dare not make a sound. She breathed, open-mouthed and her eyelids fluttering, as she focused on the feeling of Anne’s touch on her clit. 

”Please,” she whispered, though she did not know what she was asking. The toilet in the next stall flushed loudly and she heard the stall door open, then heels on tile. 

Anne’s thumb was stroking her expertly, circling around her swollen clit. Release was coiling in Ann and she threw back her head, desperate. She heard the faucet run, then the hand towel dispenser rustled. Finally, after agonising moments of holding back her release, the toilet door opened. After a blast of voices and music, it closed again. 

”Ah, Anne,” Ann moaned, breathless. The pressure in her arse, the weight of Anne’s cock in her, the maddening, magical pressure on her clit were all getting unbearable. ”It’s, oh god, too much…”

”Mmm, you can come now. I expect more later.”

Anne’s low whisper, full of promise, turned Ann’s insides to liquid. And then a perfect swipe of Anne’s thumb on her clit sent her over the edge, her release exploding in her. Ann groaned in profound relief, swaying as the waves of hot pleasure rolled through her, again and again. 

Coming down slowly from her high, Ann fought to catch her breath. Her heel slid on the tile floor but then Anne’s hands on her arse helped her up and off the dildo. She sat back down on Anne’s thighs and looked down.  _ Good lord. That’s… a thing.  _

”I, ah, didn’t realise it’s red,” Ann said unsteadily. 

”It’s apparently called The Crimson Screamer,” Anne said, amused, and leaned in for a kiss. It was long and unhurried, and Ann could feel her racing heartbeat settling. 

”How appropriate.”

”Well, you’re more a pale pink screamer,” Anne said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. She reached into her trousers and loosened the harness on her hips, which made the dildo flop down against her leg. 

Ann stood up, her legs still trembling. She smoothed her rumpled skirt down. When Anne stood up, Ann put her hands on Anne’s. 

”Let me?”

At Anne’s nod, she slid the dildo back into her trousers and did the zipper and button up. Feeling the weight and shape of it through the wool fabric, Ann felt feverish. She squeezed around the plug in her arse; it felt painful and arousing at the same time. She straightened Anne’s tie and looked into her eyes, smiling.

”Can I take the, um, thing out, too? It’s getting a bit uncomfortable.”

”Of course not,” Anne said with a broad smile and pulled her close, hands firm on Ann’s waist. ”We’re going to go out to the bar. I’ll have a leisurely drink and watch you squirm in your seat.”

”Oh! Oh,” Ann breathed. Goosebumps rose along her arms. 

”Then we’ll go home and I will take it out,” Anne murmured against her lips and then kissed her. ”Eventually.”

* * *

Ann checked the time on her phone. 2:06. She put the phone back on the nightstand. 

In the dark of night, Anne’s bedroom ceiling was in nervous shadows, ornate cornices and the dark ceiling lamps lit only by the occasional car light from outside. It was quiet and airy in the large white room, and Ann rubbed her legs against the cool sheets. Anne was fast asleep on her shoulder and Ann kissed the top of her head, the dark hair like silk on her lips.

Shifting carefully, Ann slid her other hand along Anne’s hair and then her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. Ann was tired, too, but she was also still on an adrenaline high. She felt hot and sore from her knees to her waist and, as she flexed her thigh muscles, she felt them tremble. Oh, it had been heavenly night, wonderful and intense. That impulse purchase of the butt plug at the sex shop with Jack had been well worth it, even when it had come with a full usage lecture from Jack, including lube instructions and many lewd hand gestures. 

A feeling of tenderness welled in Ann and she kissed Anne’s head again.

A phone lit up on the nightstand. Ann lifted her head and saw that it was Anne’s. Curious as to who would be contacting her at this hour, she took the phone in her hand.

_ \---[Mariana] 17 new messages _

Ann put the phone down quietly and relaxed back into her pillow. She closed her eyes and sighed. They might need to have a Mariana talk.


	5. May the Best

Ann opened her front door and smiled. “Jack-o! You’re looking smashing today.”

“Why thank you,  _ mademoiselle,”  _ Jack said and came in, kissing Ann on both cheeks too many times. “Thank you for the lunch invite, I love free food that someone else has cooked. Here you go.” He handed over a six-pack of craft beer.

“Why thank you. Come to the kitchen. And take off your shoes.”

“You and your designed rugs,” Jack grumbled good-naturedly as he unlaced his high-tops. “There’s a rug muncher joke there but I can’t quite put it into words.”

Ann poked him in the shoulder, hard. “Don’t you start that stuff in front of my sister.”

”Ooh, speaking of starting stuff, how did it go with the butt plug? Yea, nay, undecided?”

Ann blushed and laughed. ”It was a rousing success, I’ll have you know.” She endured a high five from Jack before she pushed him out of her foyer.

Ann’s kitchen was warm and humid, condensation misting the large windows and the fronts of the stainless steel appliances. Late April sun shone through the haze, bathing the kitchen in brilliant, warm light; it felt like the first day of summer. 

“Hi, Elizabeth. Long time.”

Ann’s sister shook Jack’s hand. “It’s been too long, Jack. Wine?”

“Please,” Jack said and leaned against the kitchen island. Elizabeth poured her a generous glass of white wine and Jack drained half of it in one go. “Oof, that’s good. So where’s Caligula? Beheading lesser venture capitalists at the Forum Romanum?”

Elizabeth snorted into her wine glass. Ann gave Jack a reproachful glance and was about to warn him off when the doorbell rang again. Ann’s heartbeat quickened; she realised Anne was the first partner she had ever introduced to her sister. She went to the foyer again and opened the door.

“Well hello,” Ann said, an irresistible smile coming onto her lips again. “Come in. You look lovely.”

Anne stepped in and handed over a bottle of wine and a large bouquet of white tulips. “So do you,  _ ma minette,” _ she murmured and touched her cheek with her hand. 

“Sweet talker,” Ann accused. “Can I take your coat?”

Underneath her camel hair coat, Anne was wearing black trousers and a heather grey Oxford, shirt cuffs rolled to her elbows. Ann hung up the coat and slid her fingers down Anne’s forearm tattoos to her hand. Anne kissed her knuckles and smiled, then tugged her towards the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Ann busied herself with putting the tulips to a vase while Anne engaged Jack and Elizabeth in the perennial topic of Paris metro works and the disruptions they created - a safe topic for bonding and shared outrage among Parisians. Ann bit her lip in amusement. 

Their late lunch was ratatouille over rice pilaf and while they ate, Ann took Anne’s hand and placed it on her thigh. Anne’s fingers drew maddening circles on her jeans leg but Anne did not seem to notice she was doing this as she ate and gesticulated with her fork when she spoke.

After two plates, Jack sat back and puffed his cheeks. “Oof, I’m stuffed. That was excellent, Ann. Thank you.”

“No problemo, Jack,” Ann said and smiled.

Jack took his wine glass and glanced conspiratorially at Elizabeth next to him. “Is it now time to tell embarrassing Ann stories? I’m dying to learn yours.”

Elizabeth laughed and lifted her glass. “Pour me some more wine, Jack, and I will tell you of the time when she was sixteen and ran off to York in a huff, and came back green-haired.”

“Oh no you don’t, Liz!”

Anne squeezed Ann’s knee and leaned forward. “Oh yes she will. So do tell,” she said and smiled.

“Yes!” Jack said and filled Elizabeth’s glass rather generously. “And in return, I’ll tell you of the student party where Ann learned how to have nine tequila shots in an hour and still manage to walk in heels. Almost managed.”

“All right, you traitors. You gossip and I will go slave over our dessert,” Ann said and rose. She pointed a finger at Anne. “You are not allowed to tell any stories, you beast.”

Anne leaned back in her chair and twirled the wine in her glass. She winked at Ann. “Or what, you’ll spank me over your knee?”

To Jack’s delighted giggles, Ann fled to the kitchen. She was blushing and an irrepressible smile came to her; she was so very glad everyone got along so well. Not that she really had been expecting awkwardness, what with Jack’s outrageous nature and Anne’s social acumen.

The kitchen door opened and Elizabeth came in with their lunch plates. “Can I help you with something?”

“Can you please start the coffee? I’ll get the tart out.”

While Elizabeth ran the coffee grinder and measured water into the kettle, Ann plated the fruit tart she’d got for dessert. She put cups, dessert forks, and plates on a tray and then turned to wait for the water to boil. Elizabeth came to stand next to her by the kitchen island and nudged her with her hip.

“Anne seems just as I remember her. More charming, even.”

Ann smiled and leaned into her sister. “She is. Very charming I mean. People find her irresistible, me included.”

“I googled her, you know. After you told me about you and her. She seems very unlike her reputation.”

“She’s so scary when it comes to business. But like this,” Ann said, gesturing around them, “when she’s not talking about money, she’s… lovely.” The word seemed so inadequate to Ann, but she was unable to put her feelings to words.

Elizabeth turned and touched the bouquet of tulips Anne had brought. “And considerate,” she said. “I worried… well, I do still worry she is going to break your heart.”

Ann smiled at her. “I worried about that at first, too, just so you know. Now, not so much.” She paused, inhaling deeply. “I love her, Liz. And I think she might very well grow to love me.”

Elizabeth hugged her with one arm. “I’m happy for you, Ann. And if she’s willing to face the collective wrath of the Rawsons this summer by coming to the remembrance with you, she must be seriously smitten with you.”

“The Rawsons are the ones who should worry,” Ann laughed, hugging her sister back and then stepping away to pour water over the coffee grounds in the French press.

“I’m liable to agree with you,” Elizabeth said and took the dessert tray. “Come on. I don’t want to miss any of Jack’s stories about your wild times at Uni.”

“Oh great,” Ann muttered and, carrying the French press, exited the kitchen with a sigh.

* * *

The atmosphere inside Salle d’Armes Coudurier fencing studio in the 6th arrondissement was hot, sweaty, and electric. Fencing swords and masks lined the wood panelled walls and on the parquet floor, practice bouts filled the air with the clash of metal on metal, frustrated yells, and rapid footfalls. Ann sat on a chair in the corner, sketching furiously. She found it delightfully challenging to try to capture something so kinetic and ephemeral as a fencer’s movement in a static drawing. 

Pausing to flex her drawing hand, Ann looked around and found Anne amidst the duelling pairs. Anne was wearing her habitual black fencing socks, the only leeway the rules had on the colour of the otherwise white attire. She was straightening her sword by pulling the blade between her foot and the floor. She examined the straightness of the blade and then flipped her mask back down to continue. 

Ann leaned back and put her pencil down on her sketchpad, enjoying the straight set of Anne’s shoulders and the way her ready stance on the piste sang with pent-up tension and raw power. It exploded into movement as she and her opponent rushed at each other, their swords slicing through the air to meet in a parry and a quick riposte. Both the red and green light lit up and Anne let out a frustrated growl that Ann could hear across the fencing studio.

Anne and her opponent took off their masks and shook hands. The opponent was a Russian-looking man who was sweating profusely and smiling with uneven teeth at whatever Anne was saying to him. She punched him in his considerable gut with her ungloved hand and in return, he whacked her on the shoulder, laughing. Anne put her mask under her arm and strode briskly to where Ann was sitting. Ann could see sweat beading on her forehead and her dark hair was glued to her cheeks and neck.

“Here you go,” Ann said and tossed her a towel. “All done?”

“So very done. Andrey wrung me out completely,” Anne breathed and ran the towel over her face. She tossed her mask and glove into her bag and ripped open her collars. “Let me get a quick shower and I’m ready for dinner.”

“Sounds good. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

Fifteen minutes later, out on rue Gît-le-Cœur, the sun was low and red, bathing the houses across the street in hues of gold and crimson. Anne came out and stood next to Ann, a small gear bag slung over her shoulder and her hair wet. Her sabre was sticking out of the bag like an aerial.

“Hmm. La Jacobine and then home?”

Ann smiled at her and took her hand. “Sounds lovely.”

At La Jacobine, they got tajine and fragrant couscous. Ann felt warm and relaxed with her stomach full of food and a glass of wine in her hand. She turned the steel bracelet on her wrist, feeling the engraved text on it.  _ ‘Courage’,  _ it said in Anne’s family cipher.

“So tell me more about Mariana,” Ann said, the words coming out in a rush. Anne’s hand on her wine glass paused.

“What would you like to know about Mariana?”

Anne’s tone of voice was carefully neutral, not unkind. Ann blew out her breath. 

“She left you a lot of messages the other night. I saw accidentally, I didn’t snoop on purpose. And I know she’s a big part of your Instagram history at least.” Ann leaned forward, catching Anne’s eye. “I don’t mean to pry, but I get the sense that she is a big part of your actual history and who you are today.”

Anne’s jaw worked and she took a sip of wine, looking away from Ann. This was Anne trying to determine how much or how little to tell, Ann knew; she gave Anne her time.

After a moment, Anne set her wine glass down and pulled up the sleeve of her shirt. She ran a finger across one of the many tattoo lines and read quietly. “ _ The chivalry of heart was gone. Hope’s brightest hues were brushed away.  _ And here.  _ My knowing her had perhaps been the ruin of my health and happiness. _ This is all Mariana.”

Ann’s heart lurched painfully. She took Anne’s hand, brushing her knuckles with her thumb. She had never asked Anne to read all of her tattoos because to her, it would’ve felt like asking someone to read their private diary. But she had not realised there was so much sadness there. She glanced down at Anne’s forearms. So much of her history still remained unread, unknown to Ann.

”Oh, Anne,” Ann sighed, not knowing what else to say.

Anne squeezed her hand. She still wasn’t looking Ann in the eye. ”Mariana and I are… She was my lover for four years but I wore her ring for ten, even after she, hm, when she married Charles.”

”But why? If you were lovers, why did she marry this Charles?”

Anne laughed and it was not a nice sound. ”I was young and a starving startup entrepreneur. I had short hair and wore men’s jeans. She wanted stability and old money, respectability in her lofty lawyer circles. Charles was all of the things I was not. And thereafter… we’ve been complicated.”

”Even now?” Ann asked, frowning.

Anne took a sip of her wine and offered Ann a sardonic smile, finally looking into her eyes. ”The ink is from ten years ago. But despite all that, we’ve been off and on until, hm, last year.”

Ann blinked. ”Oh, that’s…”

”Adultery, if you want to get technical. Yes. And we only stopped because I’m here and she’s in London and the distance is inconvenient.” Anne paused, opened her mouth, and closed it again. She laid her hand on Ann’s cheek, eyes intense. ”The honest truth is, she was the one for me for all these years. Until I met you, Ann.”

Ann sat silently, emotions welling inside her and tears pricking at her eyes. So much of Anne made sense now, from her tendency to dress as if every occasion were a funeral to the prickly, wary side of her that was so evident when it came to emotions. There was part of Anne that was broken and could not be fixed. Ann put her hand on top of Anne’s and pressed her cheek into Anne’s palm.

”Thank you for telling me, Anne. I don’t know how I feel about her now. It’s… strange.”

”I know,” Anne said, her thumb brushing away Ann’s tears. ”But understand that I will never go back to her, or to anyone else. I’m with you. And I’ve told Mariana as much.”

Ann kissed Anne’s palm and took her hand between hers. ”I think I know that,” Ann whispered. She held hope that while the broken parts of Anne could not be wished unbroken, perhaps they could heal, given enough time. 

“Mariana is not malicious by nature. She just has… her own insecurities and priorities. I have been terrible to her as well during our history.” Anne sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“But why is she barraging you with messages in the middle of the night?”

”Ah. Mmm, well. This will either amuse you or horrify you,” Anne said and bit her lower lip. She was obviously trying very hard not to smile. ”So when Mariana went on her honeymoon with Charles ten years ago, I slept with one of her sisters as revenge.”

”You did not!” Ann said, outraged, clapping her hand to her mouth.

”I did. Mariana was so cross with me when she found out. And now it turns out that her other sister finally told Mariana that I’d slept with her, too, just last year.”

Ann slid down in her chair, overcome with giggles. It released much of the emotional tension that had been swirling in her and she felt lightheaded. ”Oh good lord, Anne,” she managed, trying to catch her breath. ”You are an absolute reprobate!”

”I’m afraid so,” Anne said, and some of her usual good humour had returned to her manner. 

”Are there any more sisters?”

”No, that’s all of them.”

”Thank goodness for that,” Ann said, pointing at Anne with her wine glass. ”Had there been, well, a larger set to collect, I would’ve worried.”

”Mmm. I’m nothing if not thorough.”

”You rotter.”

”Yes.” Anne leaned back in her chair and regarded Ann steadily. ”Mariana will probably be at Vere’s wedding, you know.”

Ann pursed her lips, examining her emotions for a moment. She couldn’t quite muster up jealousy, not after Anne’s words and with her bracelet on her wrist. It was more annoyance on Anne’s behalf, as well as intense curiosity on what sort of a woman was this one that had so thoroughly broken Anne all those years ago. 

”That’s all right. But out of curiosity, do you think they sell fascinators that spell ’fuck off’?”


	6. When We Were Young

April gave way to a sunny, cold May and then, a warm and perfect June arrived in Paris. In London, however, early June was non-stop drizzle from a lead grey sky. Ann rested her forehead against the window of their black cab and stared into the mist; the trip from St Pancras seemed to take forever in the stop-and-go traffic of central London. 

“Where are we staying again?” she asked. Anne’s assistant Thomas had seen to their travel arrangements so Ann had only a vague idea of the itinerary. 

“Mmm. Tib’s place,” Anne replied distractedly. “In Knightsbridge.” When Ann turned, she saw Anne was writing in her black journal, brow furrowed. 

“And who’s Tib?”

Anne finished writing her sentence and then put the journal and her fountain pen in her bag. She sprawled down in her cab seat, taking even more room when Ann had thought it impossible. She was looking quite delectable to Ann’s eye in her all-black sleeveless top and skinny jeans ensemble. 

“Isabella Norcliffe. One of the many exes but she was always more a friend. She’s not flying back from wherever she is until the morning of Vere’s wedding so we have the place to ourselves for now. Plus the butler and the cook.”

“I’m just happy we don’t have to stay with my family because I’m not quite ready to face them yet,” Ann sighed. She would have to do so the following week, however, when they were scheduled to go up north for the remembrance event. 

Their taxi pulled up to a handsome red-brick building and they got out. A doorman in full black and gold livery, complete with a ridiculous top hat, ran out to fetch their luggage. Anne took a key from the doorman and guided Ann into a lift that took them directly up to the penthouse. Ann blinked.

“This is some serious ‘fuck you’ money, Anne.”

“Let’s just say that Tib has excellent strategic acumen when it comes to marriages.” Anne gave her a roguish look. “Men and women. I’ve lost count.”

In the penthouse, everything was in muted, dark colours: espresso-toned floors, charcoal grey paneling, slate tile, and cavernous black fireplaces everywhere. The butler Simon showed them to their room and demonstrated both the facilities of the en-suite bathroom as well as the complicated balcony door. Towards the end, Ann had trouble keeping her mirth in check. When Simon finally announced tea would be served at six and left, she leaned against Anne and laughed. 

“Oh good lord. I feel like I’m in a period drama here. Footmen and butlers! Where’s my chamber pot and hot water bottle?”

“Tib has always loved people fawning over her. Paid or unpaid,” Anne said and put her arm around Ann. “Come, let’s see the view from the balcony.”

The drizzle had abated and now, a muggy, hot mist hung on top of London. From the balcony they had a view to Hyde Park in its full greenery. Anne stood behind Ann and put her arms around her. Ann leaned back and closed her eyes, enjoying the silky touch of Anne’s hair on her cheek and the dark, dangerous scent of her perfume. 

Anne’s hands slid under Ann’s t-shirt, cold fingers splayed on her warm stomach. Ann hummed under her breath and felt goosebumps skitter along her arms. 

“How do you feel about being back in London?” Ann asked.

Anne made a sound deep in her throat. “Not sure. The longer I stay in Paris, the more I feel like London is good for short visits but not a place I’d want to live in again.”

“I know how that feels. I miss my family. Some very select parts of my family,” Ann amended. She brushed her hands over Anne’s hips behind her. “But not so much now, with what Elizabeth also in Paris.”

Under her shirt, Anne’s hands strayed, one hand sliding just under the waistband of Ann’s jeans and the other brushing her cleavage. Ann instinctively sucked in her stomach; when Anne’s fingers slowly tiptoed into her bra cup, she shivered. 

“So, um, do you think Paris might be it for you, long-term?” Ann asked weakly. 

“For now,” Anne said and bent her head down to kiss Ann’s neck. “Let’s go inside. I want you naked and screaming my name.”

“Oh! Oh.” Ann exhaled. She felt weak at the knees.

From the balcony it was just three steps to the bed and Anne pushed Ann to lay down on it, gently but insistently. Ann sighed in pleasure as Anne settled on top of her; there was something so very delicious and erotic about the feeling of Anne’s weight pinning her down. Anne kissed her and it was slow and sweet, unhurried. Ann threaded her hands into Anne’s hair, feeling the prickle of Anne’s undercut on her fingertips. 

When Anne sat up and straddled her hips, Ann felt flustered and aroused, her breath unsteady. Sliding her hands up Anne’s thighs, she smiled up at her. Anne smiled back and her hands went under Ann’s t-shirt again.

“So I have a question for you,” Anne said and looked uncharacteristically tense. 

“What happened to me screaming your name?”

Anne laughed and that seemed to relax her; the set of her shoulders was no longer so rigid. “In a minute, you minx.”

Ann pulled at the hem of Anne’s shirt and then her breath caught; Anne’s hands were teasing her along her ribs. “I’m, ah, also not naked, I’ll have you know.”

“I ought to teach you patience next, Ann,” Anne said. She cocked a dangerous eyebrow at Ann and her hands brushed Ann’s nipples over her bra. 

A frisson of pleasure went through Ann. “Mmh, I’m always up for more remedial studies.”

Anne’s hands moved back to her waist, her fingers drawing slow, maddening circles on Ann’s skin. Ann sensed there was something Anne was preoccupied about; she would say it when she was ready.

“You’re also going to stay in Paris?”

“I still have at least two years of classes before I can start my thesis. If I want to do one, and I think I might. So yes.” Ann paused and looked up at Anne, memorising the sharp planes of her cheekbones, and the smile on her generous lips and in the dark depths of her eyes. “And there are other things keeping me in Paris, too,” she said, feeling a bit breathless.

“The quiet country life?”

Ann grinned and ran her hands up Anne’s arms. “The daily grind of milking cows and shearing sheep, yes.”

“So. Hm. Would you move in with me, Ann? In Paris.”

Ann looked up into Anne’s eyes, startled. “Really?” she asked, her voice faint. 

“Really. I want to have breakfast with you every morning and fall asleep in the same bed at night,” Anne said, smiling, her voice warm and unusually contemplative. 

“Oh, Anne,” Ann said, warm emotion swelling in her chest. Time slowed down for her and then stood still for a perfect moment. “I would… I'd love to. Come down here.”

Anne laid back down, resting her weight on her elbows. She pushed stray hair behind Ann’s ear and smoothed her knuckles along Ann’s cheek. “Excellent. Thomas is probably very tired of ferrying my clothes back and forth across the river on a daily basis.”

“So this is actually just for his benefit?”

“Entirely. I’m altruistic that way.“ 

Anne kissed her cheek and then on the mouth, her lips sliding slow and soft across Ann’s. Ann felt as if she was melting into the mattress below, her limbs languid and heavy. Her focus was nothing but the feeling of Anne on top of her, the touch of Anne’s lips and hands on her.

* * *

Ann’s feet hurt and it was only 2 pm. She sipped her sparkling wine and tried not to fidget with the feathers of her fascinator. 

The actual wedding ceremony had been an interminable hour of sporadically standing up and then sitting back down, trying not to nod off. St Martin-in-the-Fields had been beautiful, of course, and the riot of flowers, guests in their very best, and no less than nine flower girls had provided some entertainment. But many times, Ann had been reminded why she found weddings quite boring.

The reception was at Gibson Hall, a former bank head office that had been converted to an events venue. Crystal chandeliers scattered light over round dining tables that were festooned with enormous flower arrangements; the gold-rimmed place settings came with such a variety of forks that Ann wondered if they were going to be eating through the night. No expense had been spared, obviously. 

At the far end of the hall, Ann could see the happy couple. She squinted. Vere was a handsome woman with a lovely smile and her dress consisted of at least thirty yards of white silk. Mr Cameron, OBE etc etc. was standing next to her in his kilt and full military regalia, looking equally smitten and stricken by the occasion. A long queue was snaking up to them for congratulations.

“God, this is so boring.”

Ann blinked and turned. A woman had snuck up to stand next to her, wine glass in hand and her face inscrutable under her very fashionable peach hat. Ann recognised her immediately from her Instagram stalking of Anne. This was Mariana.

“You came here with Anne, so you must be Ann. I’m Mariana Lawton,” the woman said and offered her hand.

“Hello. Yes, I’m Ann Walker,” she replied, feeling somewhat apprehensive as she shook Mariana’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard… a lot about you.”

Mariana pursed her lips, obviously amused. “I just bet you have. What rotten lies has Anne told you?”

Ann sipped her sparkling wine and felt impish. She looked back at the happy couple and said, “Lately? That you have two sisters.”

Mariana snorted, glanced at Ann, and then burst out in laughter. She had a fantastic laugh, warm and throaty, and it dissolved a lot of the hard, prickly edges Ann had first felt in her. 

“She is such a bastard,” Mariana said in a low voice when she recovered from her laughing fit. “Good luck with her.”

Ann touched the bracelet on her wrist, felt the ciphertext that reminded her of courage. There was an undercurrent to Mariana’s words, something jealous and bitter, that she had not been able to hide. Even after all these years, it seemed Mariana was not quite ready to let Anne be.

“I’m quite smitten with her,” Ann said, her voice more casual than she actually felt. She decided on playing the ignorant. “Lucky how that worked out.”

“Hmm. But why couldn’t she wear something less scandalous for once?”

Ann turned her head and spotted Anne. She was standing by the far wall with two women, one a voluptuous brunette with an astoundingly frothy outfit of pale pink taffeta and the other a slim woman with steel grey short hair and a laugh so loud Ann could hear it over the din of the reception room. In clear contrast to the women, Anne was in a traditional morning suit, complete with a dark grey morning coat, white shirt, and pinstripe grey trousers. However, her vest and tie were black and she was wearing high heels rather than dress shoes. Brazenly flaunting etiquette, she still had her top hat on and it was tilted at a jaunty angle.

Ann turned back to Mariana. “Oh I don’t know, I’m quite envious of her for the outfit. It has so many pockets,” Ann said, keeping her tone light on purpose. Her robin’s egg blue cocktail dress and fascinator were comfortable enough, but the matching shoes were excruciating and she hated lugging around a clutch bag. “I think she looks smashing.”

Mariana eyed her, quite obviously evaluating her against some sort of yardstick; Ann smiled and met her gaze steadily. The woman was intimidating but, as Ann confessed to herself, quite attractive in a cool, calculating way. 

“And what is it that you do, Ms Walker?”

Ann sipped her wine, thinking. What would be the most convenient half-truth here? “I manage my family’s trust,” she finally lied. “And I’m an artist.”

Mariana blinked and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, Walker Trust of Halifax?”

“Yes.”

“I grew up in York, you see. That’s where I met…” She trailed off, gesturing in the general direction of Anne and her friends with her glass. “Well now. It’s a small world indeed.”

”It so is! Anne and I met ten years ago in Halifax and then quite unexpectedly in Paris this spring again. Quite the coincidence there.”

“Good for you. Just don’t let Anne steal your money. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need more wine.”

Ann blinked and looked at Mariana’s quickly retreating back. When she turned, she realised why she had so suddenly departed: Anne and the woman in the pink dress were approaching. Anne gave her a kiss on the cheek and a new glass of sparkling wine.

“I saw Mariana had ambushed you and figured you needed a refill.”

“She obviously didn’t want to talk to you,” Ann said and took the offered glass. She decided to think about Mariana’s words later.  _ Not now, not here. _ “Thank you.”

“She’s still hopping mad at me over her sister. Well, sisters,” Anne said and then gestured at her. “Tib, meet Ann with no e. Ann, Tib.”

“Isabella, please. I haven’t gone by Tib in years,” the woman in the frothy pink dress said and shook Ann’s hand with a crushing grip. “How lovely to meet you! You’re not at all like how I imagined when I heard our Anne here had completely lost her wits over some little blonde thing.”

Ann bit her lower lip; she could almost hear the sound of Anne rolling her eyes next to her. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for letting us stay at your place. And I love your dress!”

Isabella twirled her considerable hem, whacking a nearby man on the thigh with it. “Thank you! And absolutely no problem. There will be a raucous afterparty later at the flat, so I fear you might not get a lot of sleep tonight. But I imagine Anne doesn’t let you sleep at night anyway, if you know what I mean.”

Isabella winked at Ann in an exaggerated manner and Ann giggled. Isabella’s manner was infectiously suggestive and Ann found it charming. 

“Tib! You’re incorrigible,” Anne said, sounding both exasperated and amused.

“You’re one to talk! How many of your exes here, you cad? Including the blushing bride, please,” Isabella said and then paused, her eyebrow cocked in query. “Well?”

“Hold your horses, I’m counting,” Anne said, her eyes scanning the room. “Five. No, I think six.”

“You think?” Ann asked, poking Anne on the arm with her clutch bag. “You’ve lost count?”

Anne caught Ann’s hand and kissed her on the knuckles, dark eyes glinting with humour and fondness. “I try not to let inconsequential things occupy space in my brain.”

“Hey now, I resent that remark!” Isabella whacked Anne on the stomach with the back of her hand - or tried to, but Anne caught her hand.

“I would say you are quite unforgettable, Isabella,” Ann said, winking.

“Ooh, you hear that, you old profligate? That’s how you talk to a woman,” Isabella exclaimed and snatched her hand back from Anne. She sidled up to Ann, her arm snaking around Ann’s waist. Her fingers made a detour across Ann’s behind on the way. “I think I shall grow to be very fond of you, Ann with no e.”

”I’m already in love with your sense of home decor. What a wonderful flat you have!”

Isabella’s fingers skittered along the side seam of Ann’s dress, first down and then up. ”Oh, but you’ve not seen the best parts of it! The walk-in wine cellar is fabulous and so is the steam room. Not to mention the master bedroom! My bed frame is very attractive and ornamental,” Isabella said and leaned so close Ann could feel her breath on her cheek. “I’m told the details are best appreciated while being thoroughly ravished on my sublime Egyptian cotton sheets.”

Ann laughed and felt herself blush. She leaned closer, too; Isabella’s perfume was heavy and cloying, too much of everything. “Oh, the stories that bed could tell. Many, I can imagine.”

“I would love to tell you some of those stories, you delightful creature. Anytime,” Isabella breathed into her ear.

”Tib!” Anne barked. “I know what you’re doing because it’s what you always do. Stop it.”

Ann glanced at Anne, feeling impish. ”Oh come now, Anne. She’s been a perfect lady to me.”

“You insufferable libertines. I knew I was going to regret coming here,” Anne muttered darkly into her drink. ”Come on, the pair of you. Let’s go find our table.”


	7. Across the Valleys and Moors

Ann woke up to the bright sunlight. Groaning, she squinted towards the windows and fumbled around until she found her phone. 11:08 am. She closed her eyes again. She didn’t know how to operate the curtains in Isabella’s guest room so she had left them open - a decision she was now regretting.

The night had gone on until the small hours and when Ann had tapped out at around 3 am, Isabella and several people at the afterparty had been dancing on a sofa. Now, Ann felt the dry mouth of quite many glasses of wine and the soreness in her calves from wearing heels the entire day.

Ann opened her eyes again, carefully. Next to her Anne was sprawled out on her back, fast asleep, arms everywhere and one long leg on top of the white sheets. Ann smiled, gave her a kiss on the forehead and got out of bed. 

Teeth brushed and feeling much refreshed by it, she came out of the bathroom and dug out her sketchbook and pencil from her carry-on bag. She sat down and got to drawing, making five sketches until she thought she got the angle of Anne’s head and the wild shapes of her dark hair against the pillow just right.

“Morning.”

Ann looked up from her drawing. In bed, Anne was awake, looking at her with her calm, dark eyes. “Good morning,” Ann said and put her pencil down on the sketchbook. “How are you feeling? What time did you get to bed?”

“Either too early or too late, depending on how you look at it,” Anne said, her voice hoarse. She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand and drank it all. “Oh, much better,” she mumbled and dropped her head back on the pillows.

“It’s finally quiet here.”

“Mmm. Come back to bed. And bring the sketchbook, I want to see what you’ve drawn.”

Ann slipped in between the sheets again and handed over the sketchbook. Anne flipped through it and at the last sketch, she made a thoughtful sound. “I’m still astounded that this is how you see me. So… striking and glamorous. Even asleep.”

“I have a very objective eye, I’ll have you know.”

Anne set the sketchbook on the nightstand and turned to Ann, propping herself up on her elbow. “I would dispute that if I didn’t know it to be futile,” she said.

“Very smart of you, Ms Lister.”

Anne smiled, tossed the sheets off them, and then rolled on top of Ann to kiss her. Ann mumbled her delight into the kiss. It was long and unhurried, with Anne’s hands in her hair and then on her neck, strong and sure. Ann traced the contours of Anne’s shoulders and down her sides to her waist. Feeling the smooth silky warmth of Anne’s skin under her hands was something she was sure she would never grow tired of. 

Anne slid down to kiss her neck and then her knee nudged Ann’s legs apart, just a bit. Ann inhaled unsteadily and felt goosebumps skitter across her skin. She thought it strange and wonderful that even after all their days and times together, Anne’s touch still had this immediate, intoxicating effect on her. Ann slid her hands in Anne’s hair and held her close.

“Oh, you feel… wonderful when you do that,” Ann sighed and closed her eyes, feeling her body heat up at the sensation of Anne’s lips sliding along her neck. “So wonderful.”

Anne shifted and bit down on Ann’s earlobe, drawing out a moan from Ann. “Mmm, and you are so very responsive. That’s wonderful, too,” she whispered in Ann’s ear.

Ann shivered again and then held her breath as Anne’s hand travelled from her neck down to her breast, making only a brief stop at her nipple. Then, her fingers slid further down, leaving trails of fire on Ann’s skin; her breathing grew uneven under this slow torture. Bypassing Ann’s aching centre, Anne’s hand slid along her thigh.

“Don’t tease,” Ann panted. She was acutely aware of Anne’s every touch, the slide of her lips across her shoulder and her hand making those infuriating slow circles on her thigh. “Ah, oh Anne, but of course you’re going to tease.”

“Lift your knee up a bit,” Anne murmured into her shoulder between kisses. “And spread your legs. I want to touch you everywhere.”

Ann exhaled a moan and did as was told. Anne got up on her elbow again and shifted to her side so that all of a sudden, Ann felt Anne’s wetness press against her thigh.

“Oh!” Ann moaned and her eyes fluttered closed. Her hand went to Anne’s hip, keeping her there; she did not want to lose this sensation. Ann pressed up with her thigh and was rewarded with a low groan from Anne. “Oh, Anne...”

Then Anne’s fingers finally slid from Ann’s thigh to the apex of her legs, dipping into her wet folds. When the fingers pressed on her clit, sliding with skill and strength, Ann’s words came out as a breathy moan. 

“Oh, Ann,” Anne whispered and flexed her legs. “You are so perfect. So ready....”

Ann felt Anne slide along her thigh and it was the most erotic feeling she had ever felt. Ann pulled Anne’s head down for a kiss and it was wet and sloppy; she felt a hard, sharp release swell in her abdomen, tighter and tighter with every slick swipe of Anne’s fingers on her. 

“Please,” she breathed against Anne’s lips and opened her eyes with difficulty. Anne was watching her, eyes liquid with lust. “I want you inside me. Please.”

Anne’s hand shifted and when Ann felt two fingers push into her, she arched her back. Anne’s fingers curled inside, touching something hot and magical in her. The heel of Anne’s hand pressed on her clit and then slid across it.

“Oh god, oh fuck,” Ann moaned as she saw stars. She grasped Anne’s hip harder and flexed her leg, feeling Anne’s heat slide along her thigh. 

“Ah, Ann, don’t,” Anne hissed in her ear. “Or else I lose all focus.”

Ann laughed but it came out more a desperate whine. Anne’s fingers slid out and then back in with more, and Ann felt her toes curl in pleasure. Her hips shifted and canted to meet Anne’s thrusts and with great difficulty, Ann focused her eyes on Anne. Anne was watching her, lips parted and red from kisses, her dark eyes full of concentration and white hot fire.

“Oh, Anne, god,” Ann panted, her hips quivering. Her release was building, soon undeniable. “I’m so close, oh, please…”

It took but a few strokes of Anne’s hand on her and then she again curled her fingers inside Ann. That touch lit Ann on fire and she fell over the precipice of her release, pleasure spreading in waves through her body. A prolonged, deep moan of relief came from her and she felt her whole body shudder with the pleasure of it.

Still panting, the shock of her climax receding, Ann shivered and refocused to see Anne watching her, a brilliant smile and a look of pure carnal desire in her eyes. 

“Ohh,” Ann exhaled and grasped Anne’s hips. When she pressed up with her leg again, Ann saw Anne’s eyes glaze over and that was the hottest thing she had ever seen. “I want to see you come, love,” she whispered. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Ah, Ann,” Anne groaned and closed her eyes, her face a study in concentration. 

Ann felt Anne’s wetness glide against her thigh and she helped Anne set a rhythm, her hand on Anne’s hip. Breathless, Ann watched Anne’s face as it transformed from concentration to pure pleasure, slowly, one sway of her hips at a time. Finally, Anne’s lips parted in a low, primal groan of utter rapture. Ann held her through it, feeling Anne quiver against her thigh; she forgot to breathe herself as she memorised this moment and the sight of Anne coming apart.

Ann gathered Anne close, Anne’s breath hot against her neck as it slowly settled to normal cadence. She kissed Anne’s forehead, not quite finding the words to describe how happy and content she felt at that moment. 

A sudden knock sounded from the door, startling Ann. 

“Good morning, lovebirds!” Isabella’s loud voice called through the door. “If you’re done with your morning moans, brunch is ready. Better be quick, the bacon is getting colder than Anne’s collection of glass dildos!”

Ann blinked and looked at Anne. “You have a collection of glass dildos?”

Anne rolled off her and put an arm across her eyes. “Next time, we’re staying in a hotel.”

* * *

”I’ve missed this bit about Yorkshire. The nature, I mean,” Ann said, her forehead against the car window as she gazed out to the moors speeding past them at top speed. It was an endless sea of heather and in the horizon it met the blue-grey sky. ”It has such beauty. So desolate and stark.”

”Mmm. Agreed.”

Ann turned to Anne and was not surprised to see her engrossed on her phone again. ”Business?”

Anne looked up and smiled, mischief in her eyes. ”It’s little Miss Ferrall. She wants to arrange a meeting with me when I’m back in Sophia Antipolis next month.”

Ann rolled her eyes. ”We just came from a wedding full of your exes. How much more torture are you putting me through on this holiday?”

Anne took her hand and kissed it, turning as much as her seat belt allowed. ”I think what we need is a proper holiday after this, because this is not really a leisure trip.”

”Ooh, I like that idea,” Ann said and squeezed Anne’s hand. “Soon, I hope? My classes don’t start until September.”

”Mmm, yes. I know a lovely place in the Caymans we could go to, but that’s more a winter destination. Maybe you could come to one of my tournament or work trips this summer? We can make it a long weekend.”

”I’d love that. Let’s look at our calendars when we get home,” Ann said and smiled at Anne. 

_ Home.  _ Ann glanced at the scenery they were speeding through, the familiar feel of Yorkshire. This had been home but now Paris had replaced it. She had not anticipated that when she moved there, a place so foreign becoming so comfortable. 

Ann felt a wave of pure relief when their car slowed down and pulled to a side street in a Halifax suburb. She was glad she had not had to endure Heathrow or, god forbid, British Rail, but it had been a long journey of napping, reading, drawing, and stopping at many petrol stations. The car finally came to a stop in front of a large, nondescript modern limestone house set on a generous lot full of ancient-looking trees. 

Ann jumped out of the car and took in the house. “I’m guessing this is not the ancestral Lister homestead.”

Anne got out, too, and stretched until Ann heard her vertebra pop. “No, Shibden Hall is a museum now. No mod cons, just velvet ropes and many paintings of dour ancestors in black.”

Ann came around the car and smoothed down the wrinkles on the back of Anne’s shirt. “You’d fit right in,” she said with a smile; Anne was in her habitual black garb again, from her jeans and Chelsea boots to her shirt. 

Anne grunted and gave her a withering look, then turned to their driver. “Andreas, was it? Please get our luggage indoors and then we won’t be needing you until tomorrow.”

“Ma’am.”

Anne turned and took Ann’s hand. “Argus,” she greeted the giant Irish wolfhound lounging on the bottom step of the front entrance. 

When they ascended the front steps to the house, Ann wiped her suddenly perspiring palms on her trousers and then fingered the sleeves of her pink blouse. She was nervous though she tried not to be, but then again, this was her first time with Anne’s relatives. 

Anne’s aunt met them in the front hall. She was a vivacious older woman in a beige and black loose dress, her hair a shock of white. 

“Anne!” she called out and rushed to hug Anne. “Oh it’s so good to see you! Video calls are just not the same.”

Anne hugged her for a long moment and then pulled back. There was such affection and warmth in her expression that it made Ann smile. ”I agree. Where’s the ship captain, then?”

Aunt Anne did a fluttering motion with her hand towards the ceiling. ”Oh, he’s having a bit of a nap. He said he needed to gather his strength before you arrive.”

”More like gather his wits,” Anne muttered and gave Aunt Anne a one-armed squeeze.

”He’ll be downstairs for tea, I’m sure.”

”All right,” Anne said and gestured Ann closer. “Aunt Anne, this is Ann.”

Aunt Anne pulled Ann into a surprise hug as well. “Oh how lovely to finally meet you in person!” she mumbled into Ann’s shoulder. “Anne has told me so much about you.”

Ann smiled and exhaled, willing herself to relax. Aunt Anne took her by the hand and led her to the parlour, where she was introduced to Anne’s sister Marian.

Marian, a woman who looked so completely unlike Anne in her peach blouse with pearls, fair hair, and pleated skirt, smiled at Ann when they shook hands. “I do believe this is as many Annes as we’ve ever had in the house,” she said. “I suppose congratulations are in order, since you’ve put up with my sister longer than most.”

“Marian,” Anne said from the depths of a tartan lounge chair across the room. “Be nice.”

“Oh, I find her quite easy to, hm, manage,” Ann said breezily and grinned at Marian. 

Marian raised her eyebrows and waved Ann to the sofa before sticking a cup of tea into her hand. “Oh, do tell me your secrets. I’m dying to know.”

Ann opened her mouth, closed it, and then put her teacup down on the side table. She dug into her purse for her sketchpad and a pencil and sat back, ignoring Anne glowering at her. Ann drafted a quick two-minute sketch of Anne lounging in the puffy chair limbs akimbo, teacup saucer balanced on her knee and Argus at her feet. She tore the sketch out of the book, folded it into a paper airplane and threw it at Anne. Anne caught it and unfolded it; the frown between her eyebrows smoothed away and an irresistible smile came to her lips.

Ann leaned towards Marian and winked. Marian’s hand went to her mouth in surprise as she looked at Anne, and then she grinned back at Ann. 

”I find that she’s very susceptible to this sort of flattery,” Ann whispered to Marian. 

”Well, I never,” Marian whispered back. ”She’s just always been so… difficult.”

Ann smiled conspiratorially. ”Better that she’s all the way in Paris, with at least the Channel between you?”

Marian looked at her significantly and sipped her tea. ”But then she’s left me here to look after our father and aunt, as if sending money is the same thing as being present.”

”Oh, I understand you well. I ran off to Paris and I feel so guilty about leaving my family behind, too.”

Marian set her hand on top of Anne’s. ”I think the difference there is that you do feel guilt. Anne is impervious to such human sentiment.”

”All right you two, stop whispering about me,” Anne said and stood up with a loud scrape of her chair. This roused Argus, who had been laying on Anne’s feet; he looked up, startled. ”Sorry, Argus. I’m starving. When is tea, then?”

Ann saw Marian’s eyes roll and she laughed, delighted. 

* * *

”I like your family,” Ann said sleepily and rolled to her side in the bed, looking around. The guest room was so unlike Anne’s flat, a mishmash of antiques and 50s furniture with a riot of colours and patterns in the counterpane and the curtains; Ann quite liked it for its worn comfortableness. And the bed was very plush, she felt like she was slowly sinking into the mattress.

”They’re tolerable in small doses,” Anne murmured against her hair. Her hand slid around Ann’s waist and hugged her closer from behind. ”Very small.”

Ann hummed her pleasure as Anne’s naked length pressed against her back. She sighed and relaxed, listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock on the landing outside their guest room; the sheets on their bed were cool and smelled faintly of outdoors, as if they had been dried outside. 

”I think they care a lot about you.”

”Aunt Anne is very fond of you, I’ll have you know. She thinks you’re a delightful young woman and a very good influence on me.” Anne brushed her hair up and kissed her neck. “I might find that a bit insulting if it wasn’t her. And Marian is just happy that someone is keeping me away from here so that I can’t meddle in her affairs.”

“Tomorrow is my family, then,” Ann murmured and dread suffused her for a short moment. “They will have a lot of opinions.”

Anne’s arms around her tightened and when she spoke, her voice was rough with exhaustion. “Oh I’m sure they will. Sod them. And I’ll be there with you all day. Just say the word and we’re off.”

“Okay. That sounds good,” Ann breathed, willing herself to relax. “Love you.”

“Mmm. Goodnight.”


	8. Local Delicacies Served

Ann leaned against the tree and hugged herself, feeling breathless and cold. She had last had a panic attack over ten years ago but she was now again experiencing the familiar dread, the tight band constricting her chest. Sliding down against the rough bark of the trunk, she sat on the wet grass and hugged her knees. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Ann? What’s wrong?”

Through her tears, she saw Elizabeth. She shook her head and laid her forehead on her knees, trying to catch her gasping breath. She felt Elizabeth settling down on the ground next to her and then hugging her. The closeness helped, it grounded her. Ann focused on her breathing, slowing it down with effort.

“Shh, it’s all right. Take your time,” Elizabeth said quietly, stroking Ann’s hair. “It’s going to be all right.”

“Oh, Liz,” Ann said with difficulty. She leaned against her sister. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, love. Just tell me what happened. If there’s something I can do to help.”

“I...um,” Ann started and screwed her eyes tightly shut, willing her breathing calmer. The last of her tears spilled down her cheeks. “I didn’t realise Delia had invited that Ainsworth.”

“Who? Oh, the reverend? I think it was the Priestleys who got him here but… what’s wrong, Ann?”

Ann exhaled and opened her eyes, pulling back enough to see her sister’s face. There was worry and a question in Elizabeth’s expression. Oh, she was so happy her sister was here with her, and that there was no judgement in her eyes.

“He saw it fit to smarm up to me and question the direction of my life, as if he was acting out of pure selfless concern. If I was choosing this perversion or if Anne was somehow forcing me to live my life in such a revolting, sinful manner,” Ann said, gesturing towards the house so hard her shoulder hurt. She took a deep breath and turned her eyes to the sky, visible through the canopy of the tree. “And that he could help me find the right path in life again. That sort of thing.”

Elizabeth’s expression darkened. “That bloody rat.”

“And it’s not so much what he said about me but the things he said about Anne…” Ann trailed off and shivered. “Disgusting.”

“He’s an insect,” Elizabeth said and grasped Ann’s shoulders, looking directly in her eyes. “Of no consequence. You hear me?”

“I know. But I don’t want to go inside. I don’t…”

Elizabeth gathered her into a hug. “You stay here. Will you be okay by yourself for a minute?”

Ann wiped off the last of her tears on her sleeve and slumped against the tree again. “I’m fine now. I’ll be fine. Go on. Don’t let me keep you.”

Elizabeth rose and looked back at her. “I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll be back with Anne in a jiffy.”

Ann leaned her shoulder against the tree and watched as Elizabeth crossed the wide expanse of the lawn and went in through the back door of her family’s house - a grand pile of dark wood and local stone, sprawling up two floors and across several wings. Ann pulled herself up and sat on a lawn chair nearby, the seat of her black skirt feeling damp after sitting on the wet grass. She felt spent and weak, the adrenaline making her limbs heavy and awkward.

From her seat, she could see the whole of the garden terrace and the clusters of tables and chairs scattered on it, some occupied with her family and friends that had attended the remembrance. The reception after the ceremony had gone on for some hours now and Ann was feeling raw and vulnerable from all the emotions of the day. And then that damnable Ainsworth had thought it to be his place to confront her. Ann shivered with apprehension when she spotted him on the terrace, standing and conversing with a group of people as if he had done nothing wrong.

The back door opened again and Anne emerged, holding a drink. In her all-black suit and shirt, her expression one of suppressed wrath, she looked like an angel of death. She marched straight to Ainsworth and with a sharp gesture, separated him from his conversation group. As Ann watched, Anne stepped right into his personal space and poked him with her drink glass until he was forced to step back. Anne followed him, forcing him back further and though Ann could not hear her words, she saw that Anne’s face was contorted with rage as she spoke. 

In the end, he forgot he was on a terrace and took one step too many, tripping over a low brick wall and sprawling on his back on the grass. Anne paused, barked one last thing to him and then threw the contents of her drinks glass onto him. Ann exhaled in surprise and then felt a hysterical giggle come to her. She swallowed it down.

Anne stomped across the grass to Ann and sat in the chair next to her with a sigh. She took Ann’s hand and squeezed it briefly.

“I’m sorry.”

Ann tilted her head and looked at Anne. “It’s not your fault.”

Anne smiled and it was not a pleasant smile, her eyes gleaming with suppressed anger. “I’m sorry I didn’t actually tear out his tab collar and feed it to him like I wanted to.”

“Well, that would’ve put an unexpected twist to this day.” 

Ann still felt tremulous and weak, her hands shaking in her lap. She saw Ainsworth slowly get up and brush the ice and cucumber slices off his suit, not meeting anyone’s eyes. The people on the terrace were whispering amongst themselves, gesturing between Ainsworth and where Ann was sitting with Anne. 

Ann took Anne’s hand again and glanced at her. There was rage simmering underneath the surface, very close, and this Anne frightened Ann a bit - the fury was not directed at her but Ann had never before seen Anne like this. Hot and tempestuous inside, calm and venomous on the surface. 

“What a coward,” Anne muttered. “He would never have dared say those things to my face. Pillock.”

“I don’t think the Priestleys will like you very much now. They’re good friends with him.”

Anne waved her hand with the empty glass in it, as if chasing off an insect. “Oh pish. Like I care,” she said and set the glass on the table next to them, hard. “What a waste of an excellent Pimm’s Cup, however.”

“I think after this display, you’re now infamous within my family.”

“Mmm. Much like I’m already in mine,” Anne said and exhaled. The tension so obvious in her body was ebbing away. “I’m sorry if it makes life harder for you.”

Ann pursed her lips, thinking. She had spoken with Delia and Catherine, and it had been an awkward and stilted conversation. Her Aunt Anne had discussed only the weather and then made a sudden beeline for the canapes when Anne had joined her. In the end, she had been left alone in her parents’ kitchen, which is where Ainsworth had ambushed her with his fake concerns.

”You know, I think I care less than I thought I would. Elizabeth won’t care and the rest, well. They can choke on their outrage.”

“Good for you.”

“I think…” Ann said and leaned back, closing her eyes. Her words had perhaps been braver than how she actually felt. Anne’s hand was very warm on hers, comforting and steady. Ann examined her feelings. “I think I’m ready to go, Anne. I’ve done my bit here, now I just want to be...”

“By yourself?”

Ann opened her eyes and looked at Anne. A warm, soft feeling rose in her chest, and it felt most comforting. “No. With you.”

“All right,” Anne said with a smile. “Let’s give our excuses.”

Ann stood up with a sigh. “Yes, let’s. I’ll find Elizabeth first.”

* * *

Their hired driver Andreas was not a local, so he had struggled to find what Ann thought was the best chippy in town, a hole in the wall on Spring Hall Lane. After a detour they had finally arrived and now Andreas was parked outside, sitting on the hood of his very large black Mercedes, reading the paper. 

“Do you think it’s cruel to let him wait outside? It could start raining soon.”

Anne squeezed vinegar on her fish and pursed her lips. “He’s getting paid. I don’t care.”

Ann shrugged and inhaled some of her chips. Oh, but they tasted so good after the cardboard-flavoured canapes at the reception. The air in the chip shop was humid and smelled of fish and grease, but the tables were clean and the other patrons were not interested in them at all. And the fish was excellent, fresh and crisp.

“Our return tickets are for Monday. What would you like to do tomorrow?”

“Well, I was going to spend it at Crow Nest visiting everyone but I think that’s… I don’t want to do that.” Ann paused to think. “You said Shibden Hall is a museum? I’ve never been but now I’d love to see it.”

“If you want to see my ancestors glowering at you, certainly.”

Ann smiled at Anne and ate some of her delicious vinegar-soaked chips. She thought Anne looked quite out of place in her best black suit and tie, incongruous in the bright fluorescent lights and shabby, worn interior of the chip shop. 

"And when we get back to Paris, let’s start planning.”

“Planning what? The holiday?”

“That, too. But also me moving in,” Ann said and poked Anne on the arm. “You asked me, if you remember?”

“Oh, ah. Yes, of course. But what will happen to your place?”

Ann stabbed her fish with her plastic fork, trying to put her feelings to words. “I… I like the place. But it’s never been a home.”

“Will you not miss it?”

“It’s my family’s flat. I mean, Elizabeth and I own it but it’s never felt like ours, the assumption has always been that it belongs to the clan. That’s why Catherine and every other cousin and uncle feel it’s their right to stay there whenever they’re in town.” She paused. “I think we should sell it and be done with it.”

Anne took her hand and held it, her thumb brushing the inside of Ann’s wrist. Her eyes held warmth and Ann felt reassured by it. “It’s yours to do as you wish.”

“Yes. Yes, I guess it is.”

It felt freeing to make this decision, to shed one of the last shackles she had to her family. The Walker Trust would still tie them all together but even that, in Paris, was a distant thing. A cheque deposited on her account on a monthly basis and that was it.

Anne paused and twirled her fork between her fingers. She was gazing at Ann with a steady, thoughtful look. “Perhaps we should buy a place together.”

Ann’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh! I would…” Ann started and then thought about how the idea made her feel. Loved, for starters. ”I’d like that, a lot. Eventually. But for now, I’ll move in with you first and we can get used to each other.”

”Mmm. So I can get used to all of your quirks?”

“You should know I squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle,” Ann said and bit on a chip with relish.

“I’ve noticed it already and that’s nothing. I cut my bread directly on the kitchen counter and then leave the crumbs behind.”

Ann pressed her hand to her chest. “You savage! I bet you also leave the butter knife on the counter.”

“You’re one to talk,” Anne said and pointed at her with a forkful of fish. “I know you leave your knickers wherever they drop when you take them off.”

“Well that’s because you’re the one who’s taking them off and at that moment, I don’t give a bloody whit where they land.”

”That’s an acceptable excuse.” Anne smiled at her roguishly. “I do have to confess that I indeed have a collection of glass dildos. I sometimes use them as paperweights at the office.” Anne cocked a daring eyebrow at Ann, who giggled.

“That’s nothing. You haven’t seen my collection of 19th century erotica.”

Anne leaned forward, elbows on the chipped formica table. “You have a collection of 19th century erotica?”

“Photos, yes. For art history study purposes only, of course. After the camera was invented, it took people absolutely no time to start photographing themselves and others in various states of undress. In coitus. In an orgy,” Ann said, lowering her voice. “And so forth.”

“Mmm. Colour me intrigued.”

“Victorians had a great sense of style with set decor. Always a variety of potted ferns and artfully draped velvet curtains.”

“Any favourites?”

“Of course,” Ann said and grinned. She finished off the last of her chips and licked her fork, waggling her eyebrows at Anne. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” 

Anne took her free hand and kissed her on the knuckles, her lips lingering there rather long. Mischief danced in her dark eyes. “I do believe this is the beginning of a very fruitful and satisfying partnership, Miss Walker.”

“I suspect you are quite correct in your assessment, Ms Lister.”


	9. Mutual Exchange of Pleasantries

Ann flopped down on the bed and closed her eyes. ”Good lord.”

Standing next to the bed, Jack kicked her on the shin. ”You didn’t realise you have so many shoes?”

Ann opened her eyes and glared at him. ”Ow! Of course I didn’t.”

Jack stepped back and stretched his arms above his head. ”This must be the ultimate lesbian tragedy, that you and Anne have a different shoe size.”

”It’s awful. A tragedy worth three operas,” Ann said. With a sigh, she sat up and stretched her neck. She and Jack had been transporting her essentials to Anne’s flat all afternoon, and she felt sore and tired. ”C’mon, let’s get you another beer and we’ll unpack the rest into the walk-in.”

”Yeah. You don’t want to be living out of boxes when you get back from your vacation in… where was Cunnilingus Land again?”

Ann rolled her eyes. ”Antibes.”

”Your vacation of grand fuckery on the Côte d’Azur, yes. Ooh, that sounds so terrible, pookie.”

”Awful is what it will be if we don’t get all this stuff sorted.”

Jack pulled Ann up from the bed and they went to Anne’s living room.  _ Our living room,  _ Ann corrected herself. The thought gave her a frisson of delight. Ann fetched them beers while he hauled more boxes from the foyer to the bedroom and the walk-in closet.

“Here you go,” Ann said. They twisted the tops off their bottles and clinked the necks together. As she drank, Ann looked around in the walk-in closet; luckily, there had been a lot of free space. But not for long.

Jack sighed in pleasure and sat down on the large ottoman in the center of the walk-in closet. “Ooh, that’s good,” he said and looked around. “She has a lot of sports gear. A lot. I mean, how many swords does one woman need?

“Ask any lesbian that and the answer will be either ’very many’ or ’you had me at woman with swords’.”

“I count at least twelve. Twelve swords, honeybuns. That’s an episode of Game of Thrones.”

“Pfft. Hardly,” Ann said and and knelt down next to one of her boxes. She tipped out a pile of shoe boxes and stood up to start shelving them when she heard the front door open.

“We’re back here,” Ann called out and arranged shoe boxes on the empty shelves. Anne’s steps were a quick patter through living room and the hallway, and then she came into the walk-in closet. 

“Well hello there,” Anne said and kissed Ann before turning to Jack. “And you, lovely Jack. Thank you for helping Ann.”

“No problemo. Now with all of us homos in here, there’s a joke about closets I’m dying to make,” Jack said, laughing, and endured Anne’s punch to his shoulder. He clapped Anne on the back. “Fabulous to see you, too, you handsome fucker.”

“Likewise, Jack. Looking good. How are you getting on with things?”

“I have too many shoes,” Ann said and sighed. ”But otherwise, we’re doing well. Essentials should be done by the end of the day.”

“Excellent. I’m just here to drop off my laptop, I have to go and dine with the Germans again. Thomas is waiting downstairs with the car.”

Ann snaked her arm around Anne’s waist and leaned her head against her shoulder, feeling the smooth slide of fine wool on her cheek. This suit, a grey herringbone number paired with a black waistcoat and a black brocade tie, was one of her favourites. She closed her eyes and inhaled Anne’s perfume, the scent fearless and ephemeral. 

“Oh, the travails of having to suffer through foie gras and champagne starters on a daily basis,” Jack said and saluted Anne with his beer bottle. 

“The never-ending drudgery of venture capitalism,” Anne said, smiling.

“My heart weeps for you.”

Anne laughed and then turned Ann into her arms. “And you,” Anne whispered into her ear. “Make sure you finish early because I have plans for you tonight. They involve about ten yards of bondage rope and my mouth everywhere on you.”

Ann felt suddenly weak in the knees. ”Uh, ten yards doesn’t sound like very much,” Ann said faintly.

”Enough to turn you into a neat little play package,” Anne murmured. She bit Ann’s earlobe and Ann had to swallow a gasp.

“You’re evil,” Ann whispered back, her voice unsteady.

“Mmm, yes. Consider it your move-in celebration.”

With a devilish wink, Anne stepped back and straightened her tie. She whacked Jack on the stomach with the back of her hand. “All right, you keep her good and chaste. I’ll be back before ten.”

“Well, I am planning on drinking all of your beer today. Chaste might not be happening.”

“I can live with that.”

With a final kiss to Ann, Anne left. Ann heard the click of her brogues on the parquet and then the front door. Her mind sped through the possibilities of an evening with bondage rope and she felt flustered.

“I don’t even want to know what she whispered to you if it made you that hot and bothered,” Jack said with a grin and drained his beer. ”I’m just gonna get massively jealous.”

Ann exhaled. ”Yeah, let’s not go there.”

“I do want her tie collection, though. Do you think I could steal one?”

“Steal two. She won’t even notice. Just don’t steal her swords,” Ann said and cleared her throat. “Can you carry some of the book boxes into the library? I’ll finish up here and then come there to shelve the books.”

When done with her shoes, Ann detoured into the living room and for a moment, just stood in the middle of the cavernous room. Outside, the traffic on rue Lagrange was a distant hum and the room was bathed in summer light that bleached the floor and walls to brilliant white. A faint scent of Anne’s perfume, mixed with the smells of furniture polish and ground coffee, lingered in the room. Ann breathed it in and closed her eyes. The ambiance she sensed was calm, cool, and peaceful. It felt like home.

In the library, Jack had been obviously unpacking but was now sitting amidst the book piles, leafing through a large coffee table book on Victorian pornography.

“I didn’t realise your historical erotica collection was this extensive. This is great, honeybuns.”

“It’s so interesting to see how the idea of what’s considered sexy evolves over time,” Ann said and picked up the first stack of books. Anne had kindly cleared a lot of her professional literature - ‘wastes of space, the lot of them’ - to the office, so there was plenty of shelf space.

“Butts seem to be a constant theme.”

“Always in fashion, the arse,” Ann said with a smile. “Anne specifically requested I bring my collection here, rather than putting it in storage. She feels it complements her collection of glass dildos.”

Jack closed the book with a thump. “She has a collection of glass dildos?”

“Apparently so. I’ve not been able to find it yet, though,” Ann said and winked at Jack. She picked up another stack of books. “She says they’re hand blown glass. The jokes practically write themselves.”

Jack stood up and tossed the coffee table book to Ann. “All right, hot stuff. Another beer, and then I’m on a mission to find that collection. I’m dying of curiosity now.”

“If you find them, you may not steal any, you hear me?” Ann called after him.

Ann leaned against the bookshelf, balancing the stack of books in her hands. At the other end of the spacious library, next to the tall windows, was Anne’s desk and chair. Behind it on the wall was the painting of Anne she had given her as a birthday present in April. 

Ann smiled and put the books on a shelf. This was indeed home.

* * *

Ann sank down on the sofa with a sigh and closed her eyes. She heard their driver bring in their luggage and drop it onto the tile floor of the foyer. 

_ “À demain, Jacques.” _

_ “Neuf heures, madame. Au revoir.” _

When the door closed, Ann opened her eyes. Standing amidst their luggage, Anne was scrolling through her phone again, hand on the handle of her fencing gear bag. A frown line marred her forehead. 

”What is it, Anne?”

”Again, our little Miss Ferrall. She’s found out I’m here in Antibes this week and she’s making some… rather frank suggestions on how I should spend my time.” Anne looked up at Ann and grinned impishly. ”She has quite the imagination.”

Ann rolled her eyes. ”Will you do something about her? Or will I?”

”I will. Don’t worry.” Anne put her phone away and swung her gear bag bag upright. She glanced at Ann ruefully. “In a next life, I’m going to pick a hobby with less gear. Maybe running.”

“Mmm. Much less sexy.”

Anne sat down next to her on the sofa and ran her hand along Ann’s thigh. “Oh, I don’t know. Have you seen runners’ legs?”

“I only want to see your legs,” Ann replied with a smile. 

“That can be arranged,” Anne said and gave her a quick kiss. “I’m dying for a drink. You?”

“Please.”

Anne departed for the kitchen and Ann got up to see the view. Through the large sliding doors she could see the greenery of Cap d’Antibes and then the Mediterranean, the sea azure and endless on this beautiful summer day. Ann pulled the door open and stepped on the large terrace, the teak slats creaking under her feet. 

On impulse, she took off her shoes and socks and rolled up her jeans legs. The heat of the sun-baked wood felt wonderful under her feet. A few feet away was the swimming pool and Ann dipped her toe into it; the water was warm. She settled into one of the padded chaise longues around the private pool and sighed. The air smelled of hot Provence summer, of dry earth and faintly of lavender from the plants that had been planted in the small garden around the pool. 

It felt like an actual vacation, even if they were in Antibes mostly for its proximity to Sophia Antipolis - this was a working trip for Anne, plus a fencing tournament the following weekend in Nice. Ann was looking forward to a week of leisure, days spent reading books by the poolside and then drinking champagne through the warm velvet evenings.

As if on cue, Anne came out and placed a glass of champagne on the side table next to Ann.

“Oh, lovely, thank you.”

Anne took the next lounge chair and put on her sunglasses. Ann glanced at her and felt amused: even now, in the height of summer in the south of France, Anne was wearing black. However, in her short-sleeved black shirt and black skinny jeans with ripped knees, she did look like she was actually on vacation. 

“It’s Ruinart but not the 2002. I will have to give Thomas hell for sloppy arrangements.”

“Heaven forbid we drink the cheap plonk while on holiday,” Ann said and drained half her glass. “Oh that’s so good.”

“Money buys nice things,” Anne murmured, her head against the headrest of the chair, looking very relaxed. “Speaking of, did you and Elizabeth decide on what to do with your flat?”

“Elizabeth decided she wants to give it a go as an Airbnb. Gives her something to do so that she doesn’t go bonkers at home.”

“Mmm. Good idea. Good for her.”

“That’s what I told her, too,” Ann said and paused. “You know, at Vere’s wedding, Mariana warned that you might be after me because of my money.”

“Did she now?” Anne asked and pushed her sunglasses on the top of her head. Her eyes narrowed and a flash of anger bloomed in them. “I should be surprised but I’m not.”

“She said it as if I cared. I really don’t think about money that much. It’s just… there. A thing.”

Anne looked at her, expression wavering between amusement and the serious. “You only say that because you’ve never not had money, Ann.”

“Hm. I guess so.” Ann frowned. “Is this why you’re so serious about business?”

Anne sat up in her lounge chair and set her feet on the ground between them. Elbows on knees, she looked at Ann with a warm, level gaze. “I am serious about a few things. Mostly because they’re things I’ve earned through hard work. My money, my company, my journal, fencing. And I’m serious about you, but not because of your money.”

”I’m not a thing,” Ann said with a smile.

”No. And I don’t know how I’ve earned you, either.”

Ann turned to her side in the chair and took Anne’s hand. “I’m glad I rank up there with poking people with a sharp stick.”

“A sabre is not sharp, I’ll have you know.” Anne smiled at her, joy in her eyes. She tapped her forearm. “Come see this.”

Ann blinked and scooted closer to look. One of the tattoo lines on Anne’s left forearm was gleaming black and the letters were rimmed with red. 

“Is this one line new?”

Anne’s eyes twinkled. “Yes. Since yesterday. Took the bandage off this morning”

“Well, what does it say?”

_ “Her presence is becoming almost a necessity and I can’t get enough.” _

Ann’s breath caught. ”It’s.. it’s about me?”

”Yes.”

”Oh.” Ann’s heart suddenly felt very full and bright. She squeezed Anne’s hand, then leaned over to kiss it. 

“I wrote it a while back in my journal and it still feels right and true. So I made it permanent.”

Ann stood and nudged Anne to sit back on the lounge chair. She straddled Anne’s hips and kissed her; the kiss had the tart aftertaste of champagne. With her hands, Ann felt the strength and shape of Anne’s shoulders beneath the sun-warmed black shirt; when she slid her hands down Anne’s bare forearms, Ann felt the raised pattern of the new tattoo on her fingertips. 

When she broke the kiss, Ann felt breathless. She touched Anne’s cheek and memorised this moment, the look of affection in Anne’s eyes. “I want your tattoos to say only lovely things from now on,” Ann said and heard the tremor in her voice. “I love you, Anne. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone.”

“Come here,” Anne said and pulled Ann against her. 

Ann closed her eyes and rested her head on Anne’s shoulder. This,  _ this _ was what home felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for all your wonderful comments - I loved each and every one. They kept me writing and writing and oh dear, so much dialogue my head hurts. :D
> 
> And yes, I'm working on something else already. Ann(e)-related, of course. Stay tuned...


End file.
